The Fallen
by hiddeninthedarknessofdaylight
Summary: The Allfather has a purpose for everything he does, even in the punishment of his beloved, fallen son. Loki, however, has a knack for bending the rules. So how will the aftermath of Loki's invasion work out for Midgard and Asgard, alike? Loki/OC
1. Chapter 1

The bowstring brushed gently across her cheek, two fingers lightly touching the corner of her mouth as she slowly exhaled. Three days waiting for the perfect moment. There could be no sudden movements – no mistakes. She could smell the glue on the arrow's fletching, the subtle scent working to calm her excited nerves. Inhale. Clear blue eyes fixed on the unknowing stag grazing at the edge of the clearing. A magnificent creature, really. Almost a shame. A gentle but chill breeze reminded her of the necessity. Winter was coming. The stag would help her to survive.

Exhale. The string slipped past her fingertips and the arrow raced forward. A practiced eye followed its path, watching with a hunter's glee as the iron point imbedded itself in the creature's eye. With a dying squeal of surprise, the stag toppled to the ground and lied still.

The hunter proudly emerged from the trees to inspect her kill. The honey colored pelt was just growing thick in preparation for the winter, and the animal clearly had rarely seen want of food. The antlers were nearly half her height each and would no doubt prove difficult to carry back through the woods. But the promise of the tools she would make from them would be worth the effort. Carefully, she drew her long hunting knife to begin the task of cleaning the animal. There was no point in waiting, and it would be easier for her to carry in pieces.

The earth rumbled and shifted beneath her feet. Her eyes nervously darted up to the trees swaying above her, hoping the branches were strong enough to ride out the earthquake. It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to dodge falling trees. As the tremor subsided slowly, she frowned. The earthquakes were getting more and more frequent now. She could remember a time not long ago when she'd never experienced the earth moving. Now it was nearly commonplace.

Something was off. She knocked an arrow to her bow and strained her ears to listen. It didn't take long for her to realize the area was devoid of wildlife. Usually the animals screamed and fled in terror after the quakes. Here there was only silence. Complete silence. She shifted on her heels, turning to survey the clearing. No birds. No squirrels. Not even a fly or a mosquito. Only her and the dead stag. Uneasiness raced up her spine as she wondered why the stag had been drawn here to begin with.

She began to curse herself for stupidity. Why hadn't she been paying more attention to her surroundings? The thrill of the hunt – that deadly, stalking focus that kept her so oblivious to everything but her prey. She prayed to whoever was listening that she might have the opportunity in the future to remedy that mistake.

Suddenly, a scream wafted through the air. Pure agony and despair and hopelessness in that terrible voice. The tip of her arrow fell to the grass as a single, unnoticed tear fell from the corner of her eye. She looked to the stag. She'd only begun to make the incision. It could still be carried in one piece without bleeding everywhere. Dazedly, she took her handkerchief from her pocket and stuffed it into the knife wound. Grabbing the deer by the legs, she hoisted it over her shoulders. Short as she was, the image would have been comical if it weren't for the steel in those grey-blue eyes.

**Ѡ**

The venom dripped again, searing his flesh away and earning another scream. Lower this time. His throat didn't have much strength left. And he thought he might possibly be losing consciousness again. Not that it mattered really. Not that anything mattered. Of all the tortures invented by the gods, he wondered what would be worse. Each drop of that cursed liquid slipping from the fangs of the creature above him came only after his body had healed itself of its wounds. Only after his nerves had been repaired enough to feel the burning agony of acid dripping through his body. The ground was soaked with his blood, as were the rags that clothed him.

He sneered to himself. What a state for a king. Chained and immobile on the ground, waiting for the next wave of excruciating pain that was sure to come. He'd been born to rule – born to be worshipped. And now he was lower than the ground the insects shit upon. How had it come to this?

The answer, naturally, was obvious. A ragtag group of freaks and a design flaw. The scepter should never have been able to penetrate the energy barrier around the Tesseract. The physics of it didn't even make sense. And Midgard, as far as he'd ever been able to tell, was ruled by physics. Then again, there were always exceptions to every rule. He of all people should know that. After all, he was the god of –

Another drop, another scream. Although it came out more of a low moan. He longed for the oblivion of sleep – of death. But the Allfather had taken sweet death beyond his reach. The only solace he found was in those brief periods of unconsciousness brought on by the pain. And thirst. Dear god the thirst.

The rage was all that propelled his thoughts. Rage and self pity, but he knew better than to try and dwell on the latter. There was no doubt in his mind as to why he was there. No doubt as to whose fault it was. The need for vengeance was all-consuming. But he knew he could not slip these chains so easily. Nor could he avoid –

- that. He could feel his eyeball melt away and begin regrowing itself. The sensation of regeneration wasn't particularly any more comfortable than the initial injury. It itched like hell, and he was completely beyond being able to scratch it. The searing droplet found its way out the back of his skull and onto the blood soaked earth. Thankfully, the venom didn't continue to burn him from the ground. Just an eternity of this was more than enough.

He could tell he was close to unconsciousness. His thoughts always drifted further away from the pain and towards some degree of lucidity as he passed out. He supposed it was rather pathetic that he made more sense when he was asleep than awake. Not that anyone other than Heimdall was listening.

As always, his sleeping mind turned to memories for sustenance. Well, one memory in particular. The only one that really mattered in his current condition.

_Thor stood beside him. The arrogant, stupid fool had taken him back to Asgard for a trial, probably hoping that the Allfather would still feel some love for the child he'd stolen. Loki seriously doubted he was going to get any sympathy from the man who'd scorned him all his life to favor his older son. Well, his only son really. At least now he knew his dark hair wasn't the result of unfaithfulness on Moth-Frigga's part. He supposed that being "adopted" and scorned might be slightly better than being a bastard and scorned. Slight difference, but every bit counts. It was easier to hate people you didn't any real biological ties to. Not that he needed any help with that. _

_The Allfather's face was a mask as his sons knelt before him. Loki kept his eyes firmly on the floor. He wouldn't give the old man the pleasure of seeing his humiliation in his eyes. Thor, as always, was trying to say something. Loki was surprised the oaf could manage to get anything past that thick tongue of his. Something about him being sorry and how the Allfather should show mercy to the prodigal son. Typical of Thor to use Midgardian references at an Asgardian trial. He wondered if Odin actually understood what Feathers was attempting to lie about. He doubted it would make much of a difference._ _He was only partly sorry anyway. _

_Well, maybe more than partly. There was a fair bit that he'd never intended on happening. And a fair bit he wished he'd thought through a bit better. He wondered what would have gone differently if he hadn't let go of that terrible golden staff the day the Bifrost was destroyed._

_Probably a lot of groveling. And a lot of time with horse shit in the stables._

_It didn't really matter. He was likely to be dead in a few moments anyway. He wanted to be dead._

_The Allfather's staff met the floor with a familiar resounding BOOM. His bones vibrated with the sound and he thought he might have fallen over if it weren't for the guards kneeling on either side of him. Time for the sentencing._

_Loki's ears perked up at Odin's quiet, level voice. His hate-filled green-blue eyes darted up at last to meet the king's single blue orb. He searched for a moment to find any trace of love in that level gaze, but thought he found only pity. Just pity for the outcast he'd stolen from a frozen planet and raised for a purpose that no longer mattered. Never a son. Only a stolen relic that's outlived his usefulness. _

"_Loki Odinson," he began. Loki started at the title. If his mouth wasn't covered he would have protested at the mockery. _Odinson._ What a joke. The man couldn't even call him by his true name, even in the face of his death. Laufeyson. It should have been Laufeyson. But no. He would never admit to having kept a frost giant's child in the midst of his most precious followers. "You have betrayed and forsaken not only your family and your home but also countless innocents undeserving of your wrath. You have murdered, enslaved, and condemned to death and unimaginable suffering the nine realms you once swore to protect. You are unworthy of all that has been given to you. You are unworthy of the love you have forsaken. My son is dead. You are all that remains of him – wretched, hateful creature. Until that time when my son returns to me, you are hereby stripped of your power and your freedom. From this day forth, you shall be bound beneath the surface of Midgard by chains wrought in the fires you have set. I condemn you to pain and suffering as great as any imaginable. But know this. Even that which you will come to feel can not in any way compare to the pain you have caused to others. That is the only mercy I can give." _

_Water welled up in his eye. Pity. Only pity. Rage filled the trickster. He sprung to his feet and would have called out to the man. But no. He wasn't allowed the dignity of protest. Why couldn't he just have killed him? Why couldn't he bring himself to execute him? Why did he need to continue pretending that he cared?_

_Thor met his eyes only once, conveying the terror and agony the larger man felt for the creature he still called brother. Tears streamed down his face. Thor had always been so honest with his emotions. So painfully, stupidly, repulsively honest. Loki, with his sunken eyes and hate filled heart could have laughed as he was dragged away to face his fate._

He screamed, and the rage swept out into the Earth to make the mountains rumble. He felt sorry for any poor sod that happened to be taking a ski trip at that moment. He was sure he'd caused at least a few avalanches in the past few months. Then again, maybe one of those cursed Avengers was on one of those mountains. The sentiment of pity was immediately revoked as he imagined Stark or Fury being swept up in a wave of snow and rock. Or, even better, that monster of a man. Banner. The Hulk would likely just walk away from such an event, but it was the thought that counted, as they said. Speaking of Banner, he wondered if it itched this much when the green monster healed itself. He certainly hoped so.

He suddenly felt a presence in the cave with him, and looked up just in time to see a figure framed by waning sunlight before the drop hit him in the eye again. Not enough time to register much of anything else. He spent the next several drip-periods attempting to get a look at it-him-her – whatever. Unfortunately, that happened to position his eye under the drip – which was counterproductive to learning much of anything.

"Hello," he offered after a few screams. He was almost finished healing himself, but he knew he had all the time in the world.

There was no response, and Loki wondered what sick Midgardian had the stomach to sit silently in the same room with a man who was repetitively physically destroyed and rebuilt every thirty seconds or so. Not that he was one to talk. But he was a god. He was allowed to have his quirks.

After a while, he fell unconscious again. The petty human couldn't do any more damage to him than was already being done anyway. He dreamed again, and when he awoke he knew something was different. For one, he wasn't screaming. Tentatively, worrying that he was just a little early for the next droplet of cursed venom falling from the hovering serpent's mouth, he opened his eyes and blinked in surprise.

"What is that?" A large bone-like dish of some kind was suspended above his head beneath the snake's mouth. Could the mortal do magic? His eyes focused more on the object and managed to make out some sort of rope supporting it. Not magic, but blessedly effective nevertheless.

"Antler," came the short reply.

"So you're a woman? I was wondering. I couldn't get much of a good look earlier." Fishing for information. Maybe there was an escape route after all.

There was no response. Not particularly talkative. Okay then. "Why?" he asked simply, trying a different approach.

"I got tired of your screaming. And the earthquakes scare the animals away."

He felt his heart sink. Funny. He hadn't even realized it had risen. At least it wasn't blatant pity. Just problem solving.

"You should get some real sleep while you can. The antler is shallow and won't hold it for long." She was somewhere in the shadows where he couldn't see her.

"You should have found something bigger." He couldn't quite stop the arrogant quip from leaving his lips. He knew he shouldn't antagonize her if he wanted to use her to escape. He just couldn't quite hold it back.

"I should have walked away," came the sharp retort. Fair point. More than fair, actually. In all likelihood, she should have probably sat around to watch and invited her friends. And the rest of the world.

Sounding properly chastened, he asked quietly, "So why don't you."

"I told you. You were scaring the animals away." A pause. "Go to sleep Loki Odinson."

"Laufeyson."

No response. After a while, he took her advice and drifted off, wondering how much she knew of who he was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the great response guys I know it's going really slowly here at the beginning, and I'm trying to come up with a way of fixing that. That being said, I've got some interesting plans for this story eventually, so keep reading! If y'all have any suggestions, though, lemme know and I'll see if it fits. Thank you so much for reading! Please review!**

**I own nothing – surprise surprise. Except, of course, my OC. **

**Ѡ **

Of course she knew who he was. It'd only been a few months since the attack. And, although she lived in the forest on her own most of the time, the wilds of the north weren't _that_ out of the loop. She still had a cell phone – worthless most of the time for lack of signal – and she still picked up newspapers on her infrequent visits into town. And "Loki Odinson," along with photos of him being led away in chains by a large blonde man, had been plastered on every front page she'd managed to pick up. And so, naturally, there had been a five minute or so internal war with herself when she ventured into the cave to be met with the sight of Earth's would-be conqueror chained to the floor, clearly wishing he could die.

She supposed that scaring off the animals might have had something to do with her choice to try and help. Perhaps not as much as she was giving it credit for, but no one needed to know that. Watching him sleep, now, as she worked, he didn't seem so terrible. His smooth, dirt streaked facelooked almost peaceful – holding the slightest twinge of regret caught between his dark brows. His eyes were sunken deep into his skull, dark circles extending into his cheeks, as if he hadn't slept peacefully in a great long while. She wondered who he had been before he'd decided to tread the path of global domination.

As she put the finishing touches on her project, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. It was crude, but effective, although she'd been planning on using the spent materials on other things. She smirked to herself, feeling rather pleased. For a moment, the man on the floor stirred, and she thought he might wake to see her standing over him. As far from romantic as her intentions were, she imagined that scenario might be rather awkward. Luckily, he simply moaned and turned his head as he continued to sleep.

Her work done, she sat down against the wall to rest.

**Ѡ**

There were… tubes… above him. Tubes stretching down to the ground from the suspended antler, leading the dripping venom away from him and into a freshly dug ditch further towards the back of the cave. Wait. Not tubes. Bones. They were bones tied together with leather strips, marrow hollowed out of them so they could carry liquid. How terribly morbid. Wonderful. But morbid nonetheless.

He glanced around the cave until he found the girl. For the first time, he could get a good look at her. It was lucky, really. There was just enough light in the spot she was sitting in for him to see her.

He supposed the right word would be "rugged." Although he thought "wild" might have been slightly more fitting, if less tactful. Her dark red hair was cropped short, barely brushing her shoulders at the longest point – shorter than his had ever been. There was dirt on her face – and on the rest of her. She had a slim, lean frame, although the heavy pelt draped around her shoulders helped to disguise her small figure. Her eyes were closed peacefully, as if she had no worries over who she was sharing a cave with or over what might wander into the cave and attack them. Considering the amount of blood on her clothes and on the floor as well as how her small hand lightly rested on the bow in her lap, he supposed she could probably handle most things that might choose to attack. Another brainless warrior.

His gaze drifted upwards to the system of bone-pipes above his head that was sparing him. Maybe not so brainless. A shame really. The oafs were always easier to manipulate.

Since she was the only thing really interesting in the area other than himself, he turned his attention back to his study, taking in as many details as he could. A hint of a scar at the base of her neck. Calloused hands. Leaves and twigs sticking out in places from her clothing. Oddly clean fingernails. Blood on everything but her hands. Sturdy leather boots wearing out in places. She looked as if she was from a different time – maybe a hunter from the good old days during the last great war. He never would have thought to find this odd, rough creature in this new world of technology and flying machines.

With a start, she jolted awake. Blue-grey eyes glinted in the dim light as her sharp gaze caught his for the first time. She was… unreadable. And it puzzled him. There was no trace of any emotion whatsoever in her face. No hint as to her thoughts or her reasoning for her actions. The only things he could infer were parts of her character and intelligence. Even in the face of a god she did not waver. No hesitation. No fear.

Then again, he wasn't much of a god anymore, now was he. She didn't have much to fear from him while he was chained to the ground. He wondered what would be different in that gaze if he appeared before her in his full strength.

An eyebrow raise. "That sneer doesn't suit you, you know." Insolent, too.

"You should watch your tongue, mortal."

She shrugged noncommittally. "Just an observation. No need to get pissy." She pushed herself up from the ground and began wandering around the cave. He watched for a moment, but in the gathering darkness couldn't quite make out what she was trying to do. Curiosity got the better of him.

"What are you doing?"

No response. He was beginning to think she was trying to frustrate him. And he didn't take well to being blatantly ignored. A low growl escaped his throat, and she paused in her work to look at him.

"You gonna be okay over there?" Sarcasm. He could almost feel that eyebrow go up.

"Your attitude isn't particularly becoming, you know," he spat. Hoping to get a rise out of her by mimicry, he was once again disappointed.

She chuckled, as if to herself. "Hello pot, my name's kettle."

He didn't quite understand the reference, but the point came through quite clearly. He grimaced and looked up to the antler above him, deciding to do his best to ignore her. He knew he should probably either apologize or come up with a characteristic witty comeback, but he was slightly too irritated to do either. He only looked back to her when an orange glow started to grow from a few feet away.

"We are in a cave. You really think a fire is a good idea?"

She wordlessly pointed to the ceiling, and Loki realized that it was angled upwards and would channel the smoke out towards the mouth of the cave. Convenient. Irritatingly convenient. She started carrying slabs of uncooked meat towards the fire, as well as a leather pack. Within a few minutes, she had a nice little spit set over the fire and the meat was roasting.

"I'm assuming, being a god and all, you don't have any food allergies I should be worrying about?"

He was about to respond with some snide comment about not needing food because he was a god when his stomach decided to rumble and answer for him. Loudly. Instead, he just shook his head and allowed his mouth to water pitifully.

She smirked. He looked away pointedly. While the meat was cooking, she retrieved a canteen of water and a rag and began washing the blood off her face. As droplets of water fell to the ground, Loki watched thirstily, thinking that was an awful waste of water. At last she looked over at him and caught his gaze. Without a word, she rose and made her way over to him.

"What are you doing?" She was starting to sit above his head.

"Don't move so much. You'll make me bump the antler. And I don't heal nearly as quickly as you do." She moved his head into her lap and held the canteen gently to his cracking lips.

"You're being awfully… maternal," he commented, noting the head-in-the-lap thing.

"If I don't prop you up, you'll choke. And I don't fancy you coughing and spluttering everywhere while I'm trying to sleep." Her face remained a mask. He wondered if she _had_ any emotions to show at all, or if she was all practicality.

As the water dripped past his lips, he strained for more before she pulled the canteen away for a moment. "Slowly."

He decided against pointing out that she shouldn't be giving orders to a god. She caught the look of protest, however. "Trust me. I've been dehydrated far more often than you have. If you drink too fast, you'll throw up. And I don't want to clean it up."

Good point. He let her dribble water slowly into his mouth, and he did his best not to gulp it down. After a few minutes, the canteen ran dry, much to Loki's dismay. The girl gave him an apologetic smile.

"Do you have more?"

"The nearest stream is two hours' walk from here, and the sun is going down. I'll go get more in the morning." Easing his head back to the floor, she rose to go back to the fire. Digging around in her pack, she produced a small plastic bag half full of spices and sprinkled it over the meat. She turned the meat every so often as they waited. "Do you like your venison rare or well done?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Medium it is then," she smirked and started rummaging around in her pack again, eventually pulling out a wooden board and a two-pronged fork. Loki couldn't get a good look at what she was doing until she made her way back to him with a board full of meat strips. Once again, she sat down and eased his head into her lap. "Ready?"

Silly question. He hadn't eaten anything in months. Of course he was ready.

"Very slowly," she instructed, breaking off a piece of the meat. "And chew carefully."

He answered her only with a glare. She raised her eyebrows at him, smiled mischievously, and popped the morsel into her own mouth. He thought that was probably the most vibrant expression he'd seen cross her face. "This meat will last me a lot longer without sharing it with you." She broke off another small bite. "So quit being an ass while I'm being nice." The meat was almost to his lips when she pulled it away again. "Oh, and if you throw up on yourself, you're staying that way until tomorrow when I can go get water. And I can tell you from experience that's not very pleasant."

He wondered when she'd been chained to the floor and tortured by a venomous snake by the hands of her father and brother.

**Ѡ **

His hair needed to be cut, and she imagined he wasn't going to be very happy about that. But the dark locks were beyond matted with blood and mud and sweat and were staining her pants. She would have to find him some clothes as well. She looked over to the stag pelt and grimaced internally. In all likelihood, the leather would be the best material she'd be able to find. And, considering the chains, she'd probably have to sew them on to him.

Judging by the wind, the first snow would be on them in a few days, and they were woefully unprepared. She had stockpiled a far bit over the past few months in her own cave, but that was a couple days walk away. She'd be lucky to get back before the snow fell. Then again, they weren't likely to survive very well on the single stag she'd happened upon for the next several months.

For a moment, she wondered why she was even considering staying in this cave for the winter. Loki wasn't unpleasant to look at, but she wasn't much a fan of his current attitude. Not to mention that he was going to eat all of her food – food that he apparently didn't need to survive. She remembered how grateful his face had been when she'd given him water – and how much his attitude had improved. Grudgingly, she conceded to herself that she wouldn't mind having someone to talk to. She tended not to make many trips into town during the winter, so person-to-person contact was usually scarce.

"You look like you're deciding something." His face was almost comical as he spoke in between chewing.

"I'm not a fan of moving."

He grinned. It was almost contagious – his smile. Regardless of his past – and of his usual condescending demeanor – she felt her mood lighten considerably. Although, she did her best not to let it show. "I'd be happy to trade places," he teased. "I'm not terribly fond of being fed, either."

"I'll bet." She couldn't help but chuckle. "But, all things considered, I think I'll stick with my current lot in life."

"I don't suppose your 'current lot in life' includes feeding me indefinitely, does it?"

She smirked and shoved an extra large chunk of venison into his mouth in reply. He looked at her reproachfully as he attempted to chew. "Slowly," she reminded him, half teasing.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you." His green eyes were playfully accusing.

"It is a fair bit more fun now that you're not screaming every thirty seconds. You might want to avoid that level of pain in the future, by the way, if you don't want your masculinity to fall into question."

His expression turned to mock hurt. "You question me?"

"The hair doesn't help," she smirked.

"I could fix that, you know."

"So could I. You need a haircut."

"I meant the doubt over my, eh, masculinity."

Eyebrow raise. "Oh really? And how is that?"

He winked. "Get these chains off and I'll show you."

She let out a bark of a laugh and shoved more food in his mouth. "You talk too much." He struggled to chew faster so he could speak again. "Besides. You're not really my type."

After a few moments, "True. I imagine you'd prefer someone more bulky. You'd need a bigger, rougher man to make _you_ look feminine."

Some part of her knew he was teasing, but a bigger part called for retribution. She scooted back further towards the wall and let his head fall to the floor.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, a small spark of fear growing in his eyes.

She grinned evilly and reached up to tip the antler just enough to splash him a little. He screamed, of course, and she got up to sit by the fire again, snacking on the venison.

After a few minutes of listening to his ragged breathing as he healed, he spoke. "That wasn't nice."

"I only said I'd be nice while you're not being an ass."

There was a pause for a while. She listened to the fire crackling as she chewed.

"I suppose that I deserved that…" He sounded apologetic, if not entirely sincere.

She shot him a look as she stood to retrieve her bow. "There are a lot of things you deserve. Be sure you don't mistake grace for duty." A look of utter shock crossed his features, but she paid it no mind as she strode out into the night. The stars might prove to be better company.


	3. Chapter 3

She didn't return until late the next morning, and Loki had had plenty of time to think. He supposed he might have crossed a line too early with the "feminine" comment, but even she would be hard pressed to deny the fact that she wasn't the picture of an attractive woman. She was too… _dirty_.

Then again, he supposed he wasn't exactly the cleanest man in the realm right now either. But at least she had a choice about it.

As if on cue she strode into the cave, canteen slung over her shoulder along with bow and quiver and looking very… damp. Dark strands of her red hair hung in her face, which, he couldn't help but notice, was free of dirt and blood. Her clothes all looked as if they'd been washed as well. So much for her being dirty. Now he'd have to find another excuse to not look at her.

"You look… cold," he commented, noticing a slight shiver as she left direct sunlight. Her clothes were too thick for other telltale signs, but he hoped she was shivering with cold rather than disgust. She was, after all, his only semblance of a friend for the time being.

"Snow's coming," she shrugged as she removed the heavy pelt from her shoulders for the first time. She laid it and her soft leather jacket next to the dying embers of last night's fire before making her way over to him. "Thirsty?"

His eyes brightened visibly as she sat above him, unscrewing the cap on the canteen. "I take it I'm forgiven then?"

"I could splash you again if it'll make you feel better." She laughed at his cringing reaction. "I'm not one to hold grudges, though. Luckily for you, I guess."

"I suppose – ." He was cut off by the sudden stream of water flowing into his mouth. She smirked down at him. He finished about half the canteen before he was done. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the satisfying feeling of simply not being thirsty. Then he was met by a most unpleasant sensation. "What are you doing?" he shouted, trying – and failing – to jerk out of the way.

"I wasn't kidding about the haircut. It's too dirty for me to clean, and you're staining my pants every time I feed you."

"But…" For once, he failed to come up with a convincing counter argument.

"What, are you afraid the guys won't like you as much if you don't have your long flowing tresses? You've got bigger problems, in case you haven't noticed. So…" She forcefully pushed his head down again. "Hold still, or I'll cut you and pretend it was an accident." There was a determined gleam in her eyes that he decided not to argue with. It didn't prevent him from glaring daggers at her the whole way through though. She merely smirked back.

"You're insufferable." He watched her throw away another clump of his hair.

"And you stink. What's your point?" She rummaged around in the pack by her side until she found a comb, a bar of soap, and a rag.

His eyebrows furrowed suspiciously. "Are you going to bathe me?"

"That was the plan."

"I'll just get dirty again."

"I have a plan for that too."

"Which is?"

She pointed with the scissors to a rolled up bundle a few feet away. It took him a minute to realize it was the now-clean pelt of the stag. "You get a carpet when you're clean."

He wasn't sure his pride could take much more, and he told her so. She simply laughed and began to comb his hair out.

**Ѡ **

His hair was much nicer when it was clean. And shorter. She'd been nice and hadn't cropped it too short – it would still brush his ears when he raised his head. Besides, it would grow back if he wanted it to anyway. She wet the rag and worked some soap into it, moving to his feet to start. He didn't protest this time – only watched her as she worked. Those blue-green eyes shifted to follow her every movement. She would have found it disconcerting if she'd decided to over think it. As it was, it simply felt… comfortable.

As she got past his knees, she wondered what she was going to do about… that other part. She wasn't about to go into detail work there, even if she had to remove his rags to get to the rest of him. She could feel his muscles get tenser as she worked her way upwards, cutting away torn cloth as she went, and she knew he was wondering the same thing. Just in time, she had an idea. She snatched up the wolf pelt from next to the fire and dragged it over him as she pulled the rags away. It was a temporary-ish fix, but good enough for now. She could feel his stomach relax under her hands. Goosebumps rose on his pale skin.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I know it's cold." She gave him an apologetic smile, raising her gaze to meet his.

"No," he countered gently. "It's refreshing… Thank you."

"No problem," she shrugged, holding back on the snarky quip that rose to her lips. She was sure she'd have plenty of opportunities for teasing in the future. She rinsed the soap from his skin, watching the gore slide away. For a moment, her fingers began to trace a scar. "I take it you haven't always had the whole regenerative ability thing?"

"No. That seems to have been… recently acquired," he grimaced. Recently acquired and for a specific purpose – to keep him alive to enjoy the torture.

"There are more… than I would have expected for a prince." She let her hands find other scar tissue across his chest.

He didn't answer for a few moments, and she went back to cleaning him. "What more do you know of me?"

She smirked. "More than you know about me."

"That's not much of an accomplishment, I'm afraid."

She paused and met his eyes. Curiosity and dread swirled in their depths. "I'm not one to hold grudges," she repeated softly. "I'm trying not to let what I've read in the papers influence my opinion of you. You can never trust reporters."

"And you can trust the god of lies and mischief?" he smirked.

She shrugged. "We'll see. Although, 'Loki' has a better chance of earning trust than the 'god' of anything. Just a hint."

"You're assuming the two are separate."

"True. Although I'm pretty sure a god as high and mighty as the prince of Asgard wouldn't be talking to a lowly hunter like me."

She could tell he was trying really, really hard to be nice. The consternation flying across his face was actually rather cute. He was getting angry.

"You tread on thin ice, girl."

She supposed that was better than "hold your tongue, lowly mortal," or something along those lines. So she merely grinned with playful intent. "Good thing I can swim."

Frustration flashed quickly into resignation as he sighed. "You really just aren't intimidated, are you?"

"Nope," she smiled. "Not in the least."

He grumbled and set his head down on the floor as she worked her way down his arms.

"Do you have a name?" It was almost a demand, which was enough to let her play with.

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Nope."

He glanced at her in confusion.

"That's not it," she explained.

"Ah. And what is it, pray tell?"

She smiled teasingly.

"I'll have to come up with one for you then."

She laughed. "Oh really? This is going to be good."

"You could just tell me."

"And you could ask nicely."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh gentle, fair maiden, would you grace this poor wretch with the sweet sound of your name?"

Sarcastic laugh. "That's much better. You can definitely keep that one up – although I doubt you'll be able to stomach it for long."

"Please?"

She smiled, satisfied. "It's Cara."

"Cara," he repeated, sounding out the syllables thoughtfully.

She moved at last up to his face. "No biting."

"No promises," he smirked.

His face was tinged with green in places, the same way it had looked in the newspapers. Almost as if he was sick. "Do you always look this way?"

"What way?"

"Like you just threw up. Your face is all green."

He looked away, mouth forming a thin line.

"Sorry." She ran the rag across his brow.

"Only since my exile."

She nodded wordlessly. As she finished, his eyes snapped up to capture hers. She suddenly became very aware of how close her face had gotten to his. And how warm his breath was. Her hand moved unbidden to his bare shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat as those green orbs pulled her in, willing her closer. Her mind, however, abruptly took control and pushed her back upright. She pushed her hair back out of her face and cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze. She glanced up and out of the cave, noting that it was midday.

**Ѡ **

"I have to go."

Loki felt disappointment sear through him unexpectedly. He couldn't really blame her for leaving. But he wouldn't deny that he'd been enjoying her presence. Up until that last – whatever it was. That strange tension that had gripped him just moments before.

"Hopefully it won't snow."

She was dragging the stag's pelt open, and he did his best to lift himself off the ground without dislodging the pelt on his hips. Yes, that was much more comfortable than lying in the mud. He muttered his thanks, trying not to be angry with her. God or not, he knew most people couldn't stand to be around him for long lately. Why should she be any different? He added it to his list of things he could hate the universe for.

"I should be back in a few days. You'll be alright?"

"Sorry?" Back? She'd be coming back? That was most… convenient. Some part of him recognized that "convenient" probably wasn't the word he was looking for, but he ignored it pointedly.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'll try to stop by a town to get you some clothes, too. You won't survive the snows in just the wolf pelt."

"I like the cold." Obviously she didn't know _everything_.

She smirked. "I'll let you decide whether or not to change your mind in the next couple of days. It should be getting pretty chilly here while I'm gone."

He decided not to answer as she repacked her leather backpack. At last she stood up and turned to look around the cave. "I feel like I'm forgetting something…"

Loki pulled pointedly against his bonds. "Yeah. Freeing your favorite Norse god."

She chuckled, and Loki waited for the stinging retort he was sure would come. "No, no. That's not it." That was… mild. Her blue eyes darted around, finally resting on him.

"You'll be ok?"

Her concern was charming. He was, however, a god. Even when he didn't regenerate, he had no problem with the cold. His Joten heritage had always ensured that. "Be careful." He told himself it wasn't for any concern over her safety – why should he care about a mortal? – but he was sure he'd be hungry when she got back and he needed someone to feed him.

She kneeled down with a smirk and patted him on the head. Infuriating. He glared. "Be back soon," she called over her shoulder as she strode out the mouth of the cave, leaving Loki alone to his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**So, I think the next chapter may be cave drabbles. Sort of like a montage of their time in the cave. Hopefully that will get the story started a bit faster – and get some interesting dialogue in! What do y'all think? **

**Ѡ**

Cara figured she'd stop by her own cave before setting off for town. It was on the way – more or less – and she had a few trinkets stashed away she thought she might be able to trade for more useful things. She tried to clear a path as she walked. Hopefully it would be big enough for her to pull a cart through on the way back. If she hurried, the round trip should take her only five days. Two to her home; one day to town and back; and two more for the return journey. On second thought, probably should make that six days.

As she walked, her thoughts drifted to Loki. He was quite the character, to say the least. And definitely not unattractive. She'd been lying when she'd said he wasn't her type. Although, if she was honest with herself, she'd say she didn't really have a type. After John had died, people as a whole hadn't held much interest for her.

She brushed away the tears that had come unbidden to her eyes at the thought of her brother. Sweet and innocent, he'd died of infection shortly after losing both his legs to a car crash. There hadn't been anything the doctors could do. One minute he'd been there, grinning up at her and jabbering about how excited he was to start Junior High in the Fall. The next, she was gazing down at his still, gray face in a white padded casket. He'd been adopted, but it didn't matter. Nothing could get that boy down. Even the day after he lost his legs, he'd been bouncing up and down on the hospital bed, trying out his new stumps and deciding what color he wanted his prosthetics to be.

If he were here, now, she'd bet money that even Loki wouldn't be able to scowl at him for long. She wondered what he'd say if he could see her – living alone in the woods, separating herself from everyone and everything.

She smiled to herself. John would probably just smack her in the head and make her call her parents.

Then again, he'd probably have to make them call her. They'd blamed her for John's death from the beginning. It was easy to do, considering she'd been the one driving the car. In all reality, it had been the drunk truck driver carrying a load of steel rebar that had driven Cara off the road, but John had never blamed anyone. It wasn't in his nature. And he had made Cara promise not to blame herself before he died. It was one of the few promises she'd carefully adhered to.

Hence why she was living in the woods – far, far away from her parents' hateful words and from painful memories best left forgotten.

Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed the sun setting until after it had grown dark. Not caring to make a fire – and fearing wolves in the night – she climbed a tree and wedged herself in to sleep.

**Ѡ**

"Hey there Cara," an older man in a worn baseball cap greeted her as she opened the door. "How've you been?"

She smiled, genuinely happy to see her old friend. "Eh, you know, Tom. Same as always. You? How's the family?"

"Sue took a trip down to Cali to see the kids. My granddaughter's getting married in a few months," he beamed. Cara couldn't help but like Tom. He had been like her own grandfather since she'd moved here.

"I'll have to find something to give them as a gift, then," she laughed. "How's business been?"

"Same old, same old. It's slowing down a bit now that winter's coming, though. By the way, there are a couple tourists looking for a woods guide to take them hiking in the next couple days. Thought you might be interested."

She grimaced, disdain evident in her face. She didn't mind tourists. She just hated when people did stupid things. "Tell them to come back in the spring. The snows are coming in the next few days, and the wolves have been more active than normal. I'm not taking anyone out there 'till it calms down a bit."

"I doubt they'll listen, but I'll pass on the message anyway. How long're you in town for?"

She shrugged. "Just the day. I found a better cave I want to move into and I have to move kinda quickly."

He nodded quietly. "You could always stay with me and Sue. We'd be happy to have ya."

"I know… I just… I can't," she smiled sadly. He always offered, and she was running out of reasons to refuse.

"You can't blame me for trying," he shrugged. "What do ya have for me then?"

She pulled out a few bundles from her pack. "These. And I'll have pelts for you when the winter's over."

He took out each and inspected them carefully. They weren't anything particularly special. Carvings she'd done in bone. But tourists seemed to like them, so Tom had told her to keep bringing them in. There were maybe twenty in all.

"I'll give you $100 for all of them. I'd give ya more, but I can't right now. I'll make it up to ya with the pelts in the spring."

"You really don't have to give me anything, Tom. You know I don't spend any of it."

"It's the principle of the thing," he replied, counting out the cash.

After a few more minutes of small talk and catching up, Cara said her goodbyes and started off down the street towards the biggest building in the town. Wal-mart. As much as she despised the store, it was likely the only place she'd be able to find what she was looking for. She smirked to herself, envisioning Loki's future reaction. She'd have to get a good color.

"Hey there sweetcheeks. You haven't been in town for a while."

She scowled pointedly at the large, well-dressed man swaggering out of the bar. He smiled stupidly at her. "Not now, Eric. I don't have time."

"Awww, honey," he pouted. "You never have time."

She smiled sweetly, mocking him as obviously as she could. "That's because you're never worth it. Now please leave me alone."

"When are you going to let me take care of you instead of running off into the woods all the time?" He put his hand on her shoulder, clumsily attempting to pull her towards him. Eric had been attempting to seduce her for years. He just hadn't caught on to the fact that she just wasn't interested in his money.

All pleasantries completely erased from her mind, she glared darkly at him, placing her hand pointedly on her hunting knife. "Remove your hand before I remove it for you. And I won't be nice about it."

Fear flashed in his beady eyes before he quickly snatched his hand away. "I won't always be so nice, sweetheart."

She flipped him off as she strode angrily away.

**Ѡ**

Loki was beyond antsy. He didn't think he'd ever gone this long without any form of entertainment whatsoever. He'd settle for counting ceiling tiles, he was so bored. Unfortunately, he was in a cave, and counting the bumps on the ceiling didn't work as well. He'd tried it anyway.

At least the poison had been _something_. He was almost tempted to try and knock the antler away just so he would have something to occupy his thoughts other than memories. Thinking of Thor was becoming rather old.

Where was she? She said a few days. It had been nearly a week. How dare she leave him alone for that long? He was lying naked in a cave for Allfather's sake. How humiliating. When that _woman_ – that _mortal_ – got back she was going to get a piece of his mind.

He hoped Heimdall wasn't watching.

If he wasn't chained to the floor, he'd be pacing in irritation. Actually, he'd probably be doing something more entertaining and productive, but the sentiment was the same. He was restless beyond measure and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Night was beginning to fall before there was any evidence of her return. As she emerged from the greenery, pulling a large wooden cart behind her, she slipped on a small patch of ice that had formed in the mud and fell on her face.

Loki laughed as she pushed herself to her feet. The expression on her face made him wish that he'd planned that himself. He watched her struggle to remain glaring at him before she broke out in an embarrassed smile. All thoughts of a lecture were instantly thrust away.

"You look tired," he commented as she pulled the cart the rest of the way inside. "And bloody." She had a long scratch running down her arm where her sleeve used to be.

She grinned wolfishly. "You should see the other guys." She motioned with her head to the cart, where two dead wolves were piled on top.

"Impressive," he complimented, raising his eyebrows.

She shrugged. "The wolves and I know each other well enough by now it's a fair fight. They had the upper hand for quite a while, though. How's the weather been?"

"Refreshing." If he was honest, he was a bit chilly. But he didn't need to be honest.

"Got you a present."

"Oh really? I don't suppose it's pants, is it?" He could only hope.

She grinned. "As a matter of fact." She pulled a bright orange bundle from underneath the wolves.

His sardonic scowl disappeared to be replaced by a degree of horror. "No." She continued to stride towards him as he protested. "No. No. No. Those are not pants."

"Sure they are. They're just of the… tear off variety."

"They're of the 'burn them now' variety."

"Well," she said as she knelt beside him. "If you happen to get your powers back anytime soon, you're welcome to burn them as much as you like. Until then…" She flung off the wolf pelt and looked him straight in the eye. "You're going to have to deal with it."

He almost felt insulted that she didn't spare his exposed body a glance. His pride was saved, however, by the slight color that rose to her cheeks as she covered him. "I have a hoodie for you, too. It's going to take more effort to get you into, though." What in the world was a "hoodie"?

She set to unpacking the cart for a while and he decided to merely watch as she organized her stuff into piles. One comprised of food. Another of furs. Another of bones. And one more of wood. As she carefully unloaded a small cylinder with a crank handle, his curiosity was peaked.

"What is that? It looks ridiculous."

"It's a generator. It lets me charge my iPod and my phone. I'll show you later." She began unpacking wooden crates full of books.

"Is this everything that you own?" He'd been living in relative poverty since leaving Asgard, but that was nothing in comparison to how she lived. She was completely self-sufficient. At least he'd been taken care of. There hadn't been any need to catch or grow his own food.

"Pretty much. I had a small garden at the other cave, but I'll have to replant in the spring anyway. I traded for some canned stuff in town, so we should be okay." She glanced over at him curiously. "Why?"

"I didn't think Midgardians still lived this way."

"They don't. I'm somewhat of an oddity. I've heard of people in Alaska homesteading, still, but they have houses and sometimes a constant supply of electricity."

"So why do you?"

"It suits me."

"Fair enough, I suppose." He began speculating on what had driven her out here. There wasn't anything appealing to this life. Just dirt, blood, more dirt, and starvation. And, apparently, naked Norse gods being tortured endlessly in mysterious caves. He smirked to himself. Well, he supposed that might be a good enough reason to forsake the rest of her race.

As she neared the end of her labor, the woman unloaded something that particularly caught Loki's eye. Crates of crystal clear, filled plastic bottles. Water. He swallowed unconsciously as she stacked them a few feet away from him. She caught him staring at them and smirked.

"I'll share, I promise." Her gaze shifted uneasily to the mouth of the cave, where the darkness of night was beginning to gather.

"What's wrong?"

"The wolves will want the food. And they'll want revenge. I don't particularly feel like facing the whole pack alone." She set to work building a fire, visibly straining her ears to listen. "Hopefully your earthquakes will have kept them far enough away they won't come looking for us tonight."

He nodded absently and found himself staring at the ceiling again until she twisted open a bottle of water and moved his head into her lap. "I think I may put out some traps or build a fence or something tomorrow."

"Didn't they bother you at your other cave?" he asked between gulps.

"They didn't like to venture too close to town. The people there have no problem shooting them – endangered or not." She pulled a strip of jerky from her coat pocket and tore off a piece to chew on, offering him a bit in the process. "I'd rather not cook anything tonight, if you don't mind. I'm tired."

He wasn't in a position to argue, so he didn't. The water and jerky were still better than nothing, if only slightly. They fell into a comfortable silence, and he discovered that it was intriguing to watch her eat from his vantage point on the floor. If she noticed him watching, she paid it no mind.

"Thank you… Cara," he ventured after a while. He wasn't above gratitude where it was due – even if it was to the most lowly and outcast of mortals.

She just smiled down at him for a moment, and he caught himself thinking that she should smile more often. "Keep being nice and we'll call it even."

"You'll have to give me more water for that to be a fair trade," he teased, earning a splash in the face of water. He half laughed, half choked as he mused, "And maybe a crown."

"Good luck with that," she grinned. "I hope you can take it as well as you dish it out."

"I suppose we'll find out, now won't we."

"Sure will."

At least he wouldn't be bored.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay cave drabbles. So, I'm trying to decide how Loki gets released. The plot bunnies are not being particularly helpful…. Thoughts?**

**Sorry it's taken me so long to update. This chapter was really difficult to write for me – plus I got a copy of Skyrim, so I was a little distracted. As a side note, the plain** **"Ѡ"** **is a break in the drabble while the "~ Ѡ ~" is the beginning of a new one.**

**Ѡ**

"Turn it off," he demanded, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

"Why?"

"It's awful."

She laughed as the movie continued to play. "You're the one who asked to watch it."

"You said it was about vampires."

"It is," she shrugged. "Sort of."

"Vampires don't sparkle," he argued, determined to win.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I'm a god," he explained matter-of-factly. "I know everything."

"Oh do you, now?" she laughed, closing the portable DVD player she'd finished charging not hours beforehand. "Well, prince of mischief, what's my last name?"

He frowned, mentally going through every conversation they'd had, trying to remember if she'd told him. At last, his face lit up with victory. "Charlesdaughter."

She laughed in earnest, but he couldn't figure out what was funny. "Nope," she explained, seeing the confused furrow in his brow. "Definitely not."

"Your father's name is Charles, is it not? Your last name is therefore Charlesdaughter."

"It doesn't work that way here, thankfully. 'Charlesdaughter' sounds ridiculous."

"Then what is it?"

"Walker."

"Walker," he repeated thoughtfully. "That doesn't make sense."

"Well, you'll have to get over it, because my last name is Walker." She was smirking smugly down at him.

He eyed her suspiciously, convinced she was jesting. No one could have a last name as plain as "Walker."

**~ Ѡ ~**

"Who's John?"

Cara groggily became aware that Loki was asking a question. She rubbed her bleary eyes and tried to focus on the present. The dream had been so real. She could still see her brother smiling up at her. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to dispel the shock of waking up to a world where he was gone.

"Long lost lover perhaps?"

"What?" Cara glanced up in surprise to meet Loki's mocking glare.

"Some poor sod who broke your heart and drove you into the woods?"

Cara shot up, furious, and shaking with the effort of containing herself. Her peripheral vision faded to red, and she was vaguely aware of tears beginning to stream down her face.

"Touched a nerve, have I? Must have been quite a guy."

"How _dare_ you." Her voice shook with anger. Her brother's face flashed before her eyes, preventing her from grabbing her bow and lodging an arrow between those hateful eyes.

She couldn't even hear what he was saying anymore. She stalked over to where he was lying and turned the antler over, dumping venom on his face. Cara stood over him for a moment, watching with cold eyes as his face dissolved and he screamed in pain, before striding out of the cave and into the snowy woods. She didn't know where she was going and she didn't care in the least. She just knew she needed to be away. Away from that dream. Away from people. Away from _him._

How dare he talk to her about something he knew nothing about? "Long lost lover?" Who the hell did he think she was? Who did he think _he _was? Norse god or not, he couldn't just talk to people that way. He couldn't just make assumptions and watch the emotional aftermath.

The sun was going down before she calmed down enough to feel the cold seeping into her bones. It occurred to her that she might have overreacted a bit. Dumping the antler on him was probably a little much. She had likely ruined the deer pelt, the hoodie, and the blanket she'd draped over him in the process as well.

She looked around and, realizing she hadn't strayed as far as she'd thought, started back.

**Ѡ**

When she hadn't returned after a few hours, he began to worry. He told himself that she'd be fine – that she was just outside, fuming. She could take care of herself. But his imagination had already taken off, inventing new horrors that could have befallen her with every passing minute.

There was a part of him that realized he wouldn't have cared about what happened to her a few months ago. He wouldn't have cared what happened to any mortal. His own words burned through his mind, mocking his worry and his guilt. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot."

After the time he'd spent with her, Loki had long since realized that Cara was probably the furthest thing from an ant. She wasn't a goddess, but she was something more than just another mortal. And he had little problem admitting to himself that he cared about what happened to her – especially when it was his own fault.

When she finally appeared at the mouth of the cave, he breathed an audible sigh of relief. He took in the sight of her shivering and wet with snow, eyes red and puffy. Her hands shook as she righted the antler hanging over his head, preventing any additional venom from dripping on him. It was a kindness he knew he didn't deserve after how he'd treated her this morning. _There are a lot of things you don't deserve, Loki, _he reminded himself. It was strange how this human had become his conscience.

"You don't have to do that," he said, voice coming out softer than he'd wanted it to.

"I overreacted this morning," she swallowed, not meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for." Was she seriously apologizing to him? After everything he'd done – everything he'd planned to do? "I – ." He paused to clear his throat. "I shouldn't have antagonized you." The honest, humbled statement tasted almost bitter on his tongue. He'd run them through his head millions of times since she'd left. Uttering them aloud, however, was an entirely different matter. He'd never really been one to admit fault.

Shock played across her face as she met his eyes for the first time since returning, trying to decide whether or not he was serious. Thor's words sprang to mind. "You are incapable of sincerity." He'd scoffed at the jest at the time, but Loki wondered now how much truth was behind them. "I, of all people, should remember not to make assumptions."

She spent a few moments building up a fire before grabbing a blanket and a wolf pelt and sitting beside him. As she slipped the pelt under his blood-soaked head, he tried his hardest not to begin re-evaluating what had gone through his mind when he'd heard another man's name escape her lips while she slept. He knew the feeling too well not to recognize raging jealousy when he felt it. He'd been second best all his life – living in someone else's shadow. Mainly Thor's, but his other friends were all larger than life as well. It had hurt to have confirmation that he fell short in Cara's eyes as well. He tried not to think about _why_ it had hurt.

"John was my brother," she said simply. "He died a few years ago following a car crash. I was driving."

Her face tensed up as she waited for a response – for a judgment. Guilt surged through him as her reaction to his jibes earlier suddenly made much more sense. He'd been pouring salt in a raw wound. He could see her internal agony plain as day in her eyes as he felt his guilt grow exponentially, knowing he'd brought that pain to the surface.

"Tell me about him?" he softly asked, pointedly ignoring the small relief he felt at knowing he didn't need to be jealous.

And so she began to speak. And he thought he'd never seen her smile as brightly as she did when she talked about her brother. It almost made him miss his own.

Almost.

**~ Ѡ ~**

The teeth-chattering going on across the cave was almost getting irritating. They were snowed in, and Cara had been afraid of lighting a fire and causing the ice to shift and bury them while they were inside. It was cold even for him, but it would have been easier to ignore if he could sleep.

"Cara," he said softly, knowing in the _near_ silence she could hear him. After all, there was no possible way she could be asleep.

"Y-y-y-y-yessssssss, Llllooookkki?" she chattered. He could almost hear her hoping he didn't want her to do anything for him.

"Bring your furs and blanket and come over here." He was trying as hard as he could to sound as nice as possible through his frustration.

"I-i-i-i-i-I'm f-f-f-f-fine, Lololololololoki. R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-reallllllllly."

"No," he insisted. "You're not. Come here."

"B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-but," she started to protest. It was almost comical. What did she think he was going to do? There were a number of things he had been _thinking_ about doing, but being chained to the ground wasn't involved in any of those activities.

"I promise not to touch you while you're not looking," he teased. "Now will you _please_ just come over here before you break your teeth trying to talk?"

She grumbled something unintelligent as she stood and dragged her makeshift bedding over to where he was lying. He felt rather smug at the small victory even as she glared down at him.

"Now add your furs to mine and climb in." He really thought he shouldn't have to give step-by-step instructions. She was smart enough to figure out the idea on her own. "I guarantee I'm still fully clothed and will stay that way until you undress me… again."

The grumbling continued and he thought he caught something along the lines of "smartass little shit" before she crawled grudgingly into the small pocket of warmth he'd been lying in. She wore thinner clothes when she slept than during the day and he could feel the icy cold of her skin lower his own temperature dramatically. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering and tried to relax as she curled up against him. He hoped the thinner cloth would help the heat reach her more quickly.

He wondered idly when his concerns had become so trivial as to worry over a mortal woman's comfort.

After a while, she had fallen asleep and uncurled herself to stretch out against him. He found himself acutely aware of every curve in her lean body pressed against his side – and just as aware of how wonderfully heavy the furs on top of him were – and discovered there was just enough slack in his bonds to rest one hand comfortably on her waist. It was so strange to see her so completely vulnerable, and he realized she was probably the one person in the nine realms who trusted him enough to sleep so closely to him, chained and powerless or not.

He'd never realized how small she truly was. Even with her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, her feet only reached his calves. He estimated he'd be a little over a foot taller than her if they stood together. She always seemed so much… bigger when she was a awake.

She made a small noise and squirmed closer to him. He thought he felt his heart melt – just a little bit.

**~ Ѡ ~**

Thor walked off the shaky aftereffects of travelling by Tesseract. Although he'd never admit it out loud, the cursed thing always made him feel terribly nauseous. Only Heimdall knew of his adverse reaction, and the gatekeeper blessedly kept his mouth shut about it.

The woods were rather serene in the snow, and Thor thought he might have to take Jane to see it someday. The thought of the spunky scientist earned a smile from the large blonde man before he remembered his purpose in coming. Although checking up on his fallen brother wasn't nearly as unpalatable lately as it once had been, the task still required a level of subtlety and stealth he had always found difficult to achieve. He had to focus.

He had taken to calling the girl "Little Wolf" in absence of her name since his first impression of her had brought the animal to mind. Over the months he'd been looking in on them, she hadn't done much to dispel the impression, so the nickname had stuck.

It was obvious to him that she had changed his brother – or perhaps had simply been the push for Loki to change himself. It seemed strange to him that a woman so infinitely different from his brother could have such an impact on Loki. She was wild and had a feral quality to all her movements while Loki had always been all guile and polish. The dark-haired man looked more at peace now, sleeping soundly beneath piles of furs, than Thor had ever seen him – even as a child – and he felt his heart warm for it. He truly loved his brother, though his actions did not always reflect it. Thor was happy to see that someone else could care for him equally.

Glancing around the cave from his high vantage point atop the morning's snow, he had trouble finding Little Wolf until he noticed that Loki seemed to have gotten fatter around the middle. A dark red mop of hair poked up from underneath the mass of furs and blankets and the Thunder god realized that Loki must have gotten closer to this mortal than anyone would ever have thought possible.

He grinned widely as he pushed himself up from the crevice he'd been peering into. As he reached a safe distance away, he let Mjolnir lift him into the air. The sight of Loki and Little Wolf had made him miss Jane, and he thought he'd pay her a visit before returning home.

**~ Ѡ ~**

Loki glared at her from across the cave. She could be so damned _infuriating._ How many times did he have to explain this to her? "A silly thing to be upset about," she'd said. _Silly!_ As if any of his problems were "silly."

"I just don't see what the big deal is. John was adopted and he never threw a fit about it, let alone try and take over the world," she went on to argue offhandedly. He supposed she was trying to wind him up with the way she didn't seem to be giving the matter any thought at all. She simply sat there on the floor carving away at something and picking at him.

"You just don't understand," he muttered, glaring.

She shrugged. "Chalk it up to growing up in America."

"What?"

"I live in the 'Great Melting Pot' of the world. Everyone here comes from someplace else. John was an Asian kid living with a red-headed Irish family. No one gave it a second thought."

"But I'm a Frost Giant."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't we egotistical? You're not _that_ big."

He ignored the dirty joke and continued. "The Asgardians were at war with them for centuries before I was born. I'm the enemy – the monster children go to bed and have nightmares about."

"Or the opportunity for them to get over it." Point to her.

"It's a little hard to look past the fact that I'm naturally blue and have an unusually high aptitude for magic."

"We have blue people."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Some – we have a few blue people. Not a lot." Point for him. "Either way, it's not your family's fault that you're blue."

"No, but they could have told me."

"It probably saved you a lot of bullying as a kid though."

"And saved me some. It's embarrassing not being able to even grow a beard when the mighty _Thor _is your brother."

"Yeah, but you didn't get teased for being blue. And it doesn't sound like your family even really cared."

"True, but I was _never_ Thor's equal – never even in contention for the throne."

"That's not entirely true. Odin made you his son instead of pawning you off on someone else. He knew that if anything ever happened to Thor, you'd be able to take his place. And he didn't pick someone else to replace you when he banished your brother, even knowing he'd go into a coma soon." Point for her again. "Besides, did you ever think that it wasn't really a competition?"

"All the time," he grumbled, growing irritated.

"That's not what I meant. You and Thor are brothers, but from what I can tell, you're different as hell. Maybe your father thought you were meant for something different."

"He wanted me to unite Asgard and Jotenheim – to bring peace to the two realms. Probably by marrying me off first chance he got," he spat.

"Just because that's what he wanted doesn't mean that's what you're meant for. It was just an idea. Other people don't get to choose what you do in life. And I'd bet your family would agree with me." Another point. He was in serious danger of losing the argument, and he was having trouble coming up with counterpoints. Lying on the floor in a cave made his hatred of his family dissipate somewhat now that he wasn't being dripped on.

"They put the snake above my head," he countered.

"You indirectly killed hundreds of people in a matter of days. If it was up to anyone else, you'd be getting a lot worse. Besides," she smiled. "I haven't been struck down yet for helping you, now have I?" Damn.

He mulled over her words in a brooding silence as she continued in her careless manner.

"So yeah. I don't see why it's such a big deal that you're adopted or _blue_ or that you're not supreme ruler of the nine realms. If you were some big king, I wouldn't have met you. And, honestly, I'm rather glad that I did."

His eyes shot up to meet hers in surprise at her admission. "And why is that?" he asked suspiciously.

She grinned teasingly. "Because you really needed a haircut when I met you. If it had gotten any longer you'd have had things living in it." Her description conjured up an image of Volstagg picking leftover food out of his beard and hair – a practice that had always made Loki grimace in disgust. "I doubt the Asgardians would take well to a prince who had a Bag of Holding in his hair in addition to being blue."

"Bag of Holding?"

"It's from a roleplaying game," she explained, seemingly disappointed that he hadn't gotten the reference. "You can store anything inside without regard to weight or size."

"Ah," he replied, taking a moment to let the imagery of her previous statement sink in. He chuckled at her antics and decided he'd let her win this one. He'd make sure to make up for it next time.


	6. Chapter 6

Cara awoke the same way she'd woken up for the past several weeks – warm and immensely comfortable. Her head rested on his shoulder; her hand was bunched up in the blankets and sweatshirts on his chest. Loki's hand laid gently on her waist, and she could hear his gentle breathing in the silence of the cave.

Slowly so as not to disturb him, she scooted up to rest her head in her hand. She had an odd desire to just look at him – he was always watching her, so she didn't see why reversing the roles for a moment would be awkward. Especially when he wasn't awake to give her a hard time about it. The green tinge on his face had disappeared entirely, leaving his lean face looking healthy, but pale from too many days without sunlight. His dark hair had grown back slowly, now likely just long enough to brush the collar of his sweatshirt if he'd been standing. She reached up to gently brush away a strand that had fallen in his face as he slept and smiled. If there was one thing he hated about his hair being shorter it was having it in his face, and he'd been quite vocal about it in recent weeks. The thoughtless movement absently turned into resting her palm softly on his cheek, and she was surprised when the sleeping man smiled slightly and shifted into it. The movement could only have been described as "snuggling" into her palm, although she knew better than to tell him so while he was awake.

With a look of sudden realization dashing across his features, Loki's green-blue eyes snapped open and captured hers. She couldn't move. Her heart began to race as her breath caught in her throat. He was so close. He made no effort to remove her hand or push her away. In fact, she could feel his hand on her hip pull her towards him slightly. They were caught in their simple dilemma, not even inches away from each other – each daring the other to make the next move.

She was startled out of the trance by an icicle dropping to the earth. Feeling her face flush against her will, she brushed her hair behind her hear and turned away. "Sorry," she muttered as she pushed herself up. Feeling the morning's chill on her skin was immediately sobering. What was she doing? She felt like a giggling _blushing_ schoolgirl with her first crush. The first guy she'd spent any length of time with in years was a chaotic, power-obsessed Norse god and she found herself ogling him as he slept.

So maybe he wasn't _currently_ plotting his ascension to the throne of Asgard or the hostile takeover of her planet. But, honestly, there was only so much he could do in his present predicament.

"Don't be," he smirked. That smug, knowing, infuriating, sexy smirk she saw every time she turned around. She cleared her throat and began shoving things into her pack to keep from looking at him.

"It's warm enough to go into town now," she began, pointedly changing the topic. "And we need supplies."

"Ah! Finally I get the cave all to myself," he joked. "You can't go, though. How am I going to pee without you?"

She smirked. "I'm sure you'll find a way. You managed well enough before I came along."

"Yes, but I wouldn't want to ruin these lovely orange pants you've brought me."

"I'll bring you new pants – promise."

"Something that matches my eyes this time?" he laughed.

"No guarantees there. I might get you some diapers, though. You'd like those, and it would solve your peeing problem." She laughed as disgust plastered itself on his face. "In all seriousness, though, I'll bring back something for you. And I should have fresh food for us, which will be nice."

"Can I, ummm, borrow the iPod and speakers while you're gone?" The hopeful gleam in his eyes as he glanced back and forth between the red rectangle on the floor and her face made her laugh wholeheartedly. It had taken him forever to refer to it as anything other than "that music-y little red thing." She knew how much he hated to be bored.

"It'll die before I get back, but you can enjoy it for a little while at least." She moved the desired devices closer to him and placed the iPod in his hand. "You remember how it works?"

He nodded, evidently excited as he glanced down at the little screen. "How long will you be gone?"

"Should just be five days or so. Don't get upset with me if I'm a day or two late, though. It's a long walk." She slung the pack over her back along with her quiver and bow. "Anything else you'd like before I go? Too hot, too cold?"

"Give us a kiss?" he teased, laughing when she rolled her eyes and flipped him off. "Don't get lost," he grinned as she started out. He watched her disappear from view before waking up the iPod and putting it on shuffle.

**Ѡ**

On the morning of the third day, she strode into town. She'd felt restless and walked through the night, knowing that Tom would have no problem letting her take a nap in the back room of his shop. She ran her hands through her grimy hair. And maybe a shower.

She smiled as she pushed the door open, excited to see her friend. Her smile faded, however, as she was met by a less than welcome sight. Five men in suits crowded the storefront, obviously being very serious about something. And Tom – Tom who'd cared for her for years and who'd never flinched at her wounds or stories of her past – looked more than a little bit intimidated. Cara's eyes made out slight bulges in the men's coats – telltale signs of concealed pistols – and everything about them made her feel uneasy.

She put her fiercest glare on and went to Tom's rescue, ignoring the look in his eyes that was plainly meant to warn her off. "Anything I can help you gentlemen with?" She firmly inserted herself at Tom's side.

"Cara Walker?" One of them asked. She suspected he already knew quite well who she was.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm Agent Summers with S.H.I.E.L.D. We're going to need you to come with us." Cara noticed that all of the men's attention had shifted almost exclusively to her.

"Excuse me?" There was no way she was going anywhere with these men.

"You're going to have to trust us, Miss Walker."

"I walk in here on you giving my friend here a hard time. What makes you think I'm likely to trust you right now?" She could almost feel Tom trembling in fear at her side.

"I'm afraid I must insist, Miss Walker. I don't want to have to threaten you, but you're not really in a position to refuse."

She glared darkly at the man's cool, unfazed countenance. She was tired and dirty and really didn't want to have anything to do with any of this right now. That, and she had a bored, dirty, lonely Norse god chained to the floor and waiting for her to get home the day after next. That didn't leave much time for side trips with government agents.

"What is it that you're looking for, Agent Summers? I don't know very much about the rest of the world. Tom's probably told you that I don't spend very much time out of the woods these days."

A small smile. "That's exactly what we need from you, Miss Walker – your expertise. We were here looking for you a few months ago, but you managed to disappear on us. I'm afraid we can't let you out of our sight this time. It really is quite urgent. You'll be doing the world quite a big favor if you just come along quietly and help us out."

She continued to glare suspiciously.

"We can be more… _persuasive_ if necessary. I would hope that it won't get to that point though."

"Give me a few moments with my friend."

"We must be going, Miss Walker."

"It wasn't a request, Agent Summers. Believe it or not, I can probably make it to the woods and disappear before you can mount much of a search party. And it seems that wouldn't be very convenient for you." It was a bluff – and an obvious one at that – but it seemed to pay off well enough. "You're welcome to wait for me outside while I say my goodbyes."

Summers looked dubious for a moment before waving his men outside. "We have the place surrounded. Don't bother trying to run off."

Cara's attention had already turned to Tom, who was white in the face. "It's okay, Tom."

"These S.H.I.E.L.D guys are bad news, Cara. You should make for the woods."

"I can't outrun bullets, Tom. And if I run I won't be able to come back here again."

"So find someplace else. I'll miss you, but I don't think you'll be coming back once you get in those vans."

"It's not just that. I can't move around very well right now. I have a… guest… who's been staying with me for a while, and he's not particularly mobile right now."

"Is that what they're – "

"I doubt it. I don't see how they could possibly have any idea where he is." She paused for a moment, thinking of how to tell Loki where she'd gone. He wasn't likely to come waltzing into town looking for her, but there wasn't any way of getting a message to him either. It felt wrong to leave without having left anything for him, though. "If anyone comes looking for me, tell them what happened?"

"Does this 'anyone' have a name I should be listening for?"

She hesitated before responding. "Loki."

Tom nodded, and Cara was glad that her friend was not easily fazed. He knew as well as she did what Loki had done nearly a year ago. The man went to embrace her. "Be careful lass. You're family. Let us know you're safe if you can."

"Promise," she smiled, putting on a brave front. As far as she knew, she was going to be shot as soon as she closed the door. "Take care, Tom."

Feeling trapped, she strode outside and followed Summers to a large black van she was subsequently shoved inside of.

**Ѡ**

A week and a half was _not_ five days. And he was absolutely sure she'd said _five_ days. Not eleven or twelve. Five. He'd been angry at eight – thinking she'd stayed an extra couple days in town. Now he was just worried. Irritated and worried.

He'd rubbed his wrists and ankles against the chains until he bled, and then he rubbed some more. He didn't have much of any hope that it'd work – he and Cara had tried everything from a hacksaw to pouring venom on them in the past few months – but he tried anyway, simply feeling the need to do something other than wait to find out whether or not she was coming back.

Movement at the mouth of the cave caught his attention, and he began to sigh in relief before a pair of black-suited individuals tumbled out of the bushes. Small pins glinted at him from their lapels, and he knew in an instant what had happened. He had no idea _how_ it had happened. But he knew where Cara had gone off to.

It took the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents a few moments to rearrange themselves after their fall, which gave Loki enough time to work at hi bonds again in earnest. To his complete and utter shock, when he pulled on the chains again, the shackles simply popped open with a dull _clink_. He had a moment to glare at the offending objects that had been his constant companions since being dropped on this mess of a planet before the agents groped their way into the dark of the cave, pulling flashlights out as they went. Loki stood on shaky legs and pressed himself up against the wall, picking up a large rock as he went. It seemed crude to him, but he didn't have a whole lot of options. He was pretty thoroughly outgunned.

While they were distracted looking through Cara's things – which he felt an odd twinge of protectiveness over – he snuck up behind them. Luckily, their total obliviousness to their surroundings made up for Loki's current lack of stealth. Although the nifty regenerative ability had kept his muscles from deteriorating, the sensation of standing – let alone walking – had become more than slightly disorienting.

The first agent – a woman with blonde hair curled into a bun – was just about to turn around when he hit her hard on the temple. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dropped to the ground. The man began to pull the gun from his holster as Loki quickly repeated the motion. He looked at them a moment, lying there on the floor, and wondered if he shouldn't finish them off. He figured Cara wouldn't approve, so he checked their pulses to see if they were alive before stealing the man's pants. There was no way in the Nine Realms he was going out looking for her in fluorescent orange tear off pants.

He didn't stop to think about why he was free as he grabbed one of the last bottles of water they had left, as well as a handful of jerky Cara had ready, and strode out into the woods, following the clumsy path the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had conveniently left for him.


	7. Chapter 7

To say that Loki was not a woodsman would be a gross understatement. He thought he might have picked up some things from spending time with Cara – like how to dry and preserve meat and the basics on cleaning animals you planned on eating – but he had very little idea of how to travel in the woods. Which is why, when he discovered at last that he was going in circles, he began to really appreciate how incredibly useful magic truly was.

Not for the first time, Loki plopped himself down on a fallen log and placed his head in his hands. He had no magic – the blisters that were forming on his raw feet attested to the fact that even the regenerative capabilities he'd had in the cave had left him. His limbs were tired and achy, and his stomach grumbled incessantly, despite how often he pulled out jerky to gnaw on. He was, for all intents and purposes, completely human. He grimaced, supposing he was lucky his age hadn't caught up with him in this miserable realm yet.

The only consolation he had was the mortals whose path he'd been following apparently hadn't had any idea where they were going either. But Cara was in S.H.I.E.L.D's hands, and Loki had heard all about their more interesting interrogation techniques. He had precious little time, and he was wasting it wandering aimlessly through the woods.

"Damn," he muttered, sliding his hands through his hair and staring the ground in frustration. Why hadn't his father dumped him somewhere closer to civilization?

He glanced up and noticed a red squirrel observing him from a rotted branch on the log. Loki raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you know the way to the nearest town, do you?" he asked dryly.

"I'll even show you if you ask nicely."

Loki blinked in surprise and took a closer look at the squirrel. There was something awfully familiar about him. "Rattatosk?"

"Nice to see you too, cow." Loki was debating on whether to grin or scowl at the jibe. It was conveniently wonderful to run into someone from home, but Rattatosk had always favored his brother, even using Thor's nicknames for him. "You look better than the last time I saw you. Physically, of course. Your attire is somewhat… less impressive than before. But you don't look like you're going to lose your lunch anymore."

"And you look a little more singed, Rat. Anger the dragon again, have we?"

The squirrel shrugged. "It happens. Níôhöggr is a grumpy old worm and I don't care much for his company these days."

"What brings you to Midgard? This isn't exactly on your usual route." Rattatosk carried messages up and down Yggdrasil between the eagle Lerad and the dragon Níôhöggr. Midgard didn't exactly fall in the rodent's usual postal route.

"Heimdall got tired of watching you wander around the woods. Apparently there's something important you're supposed to be doing."

"I'm working on it."

"Not hard enough."

"I never claimed to be a woods guide," he muttered.

The rodent sprang off the log and scurried a few feet away. "Off your arse, Prince of Lies. Time to go."

Loki groaned as he stood, but the thought of his prickly little hunter got him to his feet and trudging off after the squirrel. He thought with a grimace that Cara and the Rat would get along wonderfully if they met. He made a mental note to ensure that wouldn't happen.

**Ѡ**

Cara had long since lost track of how many days she'd been trapped in the little mirrored room, and she was getting really tired of looking at her battered and bruised reflection wherever she looked. The swelling in her black eye seemed to be going down a lot and the cut in her lip looked like it had finally scabbed over. Her wrists were raw and bleeding from constant worrying at the handcuffs confining her to her chair. All in all, she wasn't a particularly pretty sight, and she was reminded of the fact whenever she glanced anywhere but the floor.

"Are you ready to talk Miss Walker?"

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent overseeing her interrogation had never dropped the formalities. His cool, collected face remained smooth and unfeeling as he gazed emotionlessly down at her. She glared up at him but said nothing. She no longer trusted her voice to remain clear and strong when she delivered her snarky responses. _You wouldn't like what I have to say to you right now._

"Such a shame you haven't been very cooperative with us, Miss Walker. You know you're harboring a war criminal responsible for the brutal deaths of hundreds of people? If you don't start helping us find him, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep my superiors from resorting to more… persuasive methods of interrogation."

She grinned brokenly. _Going in the wrong direction here for persuasiveness, Mister._

"Where. Is. Loki," he demanded flatly. "This is your final opportunity, Miss Walker. One way or another, we find out what we want to know."

She still hadn't been able to figure out how they knew Loki was on Midgard – let alone how she'd been in contact with him. She doubted that she'd been on S.H.I.E.L.D's radar for very long. How'd they even known how to find her? "Why do you want to know?" she croaked. "Don't think Odin's punishment was severe enough?" She was pretty sure they didn't know the details of Loki's imprisonment, but she wasn't going to tell them anything anyway, so she figured it didn't matter.

"We never agreed to have Loki here, on _Earth_ after we deported him back to Asgard. If he's here, he's our business and subject to our laws – not theirs. Which means he's an international fugitive – and you're aiding him. Do you know what that means for you?"

She grinned. _I get to see a lot more of your ugly face? Send me to prison and I'll tell you everything you want to know._

"You're betraying your entire species, Miss Walker. Loki has made his desire to subjugate and rule the human race exceptionally clear. Is that what you want?"

She found his report oddly inconsistent with the Loki she'd come to know and care for. Angry? Sure. Obsessive? Yeah. But he hadn't shown any indication of wanting to rule the universe recently. She realized that didn't mean he was reformed – she just thought that assuming _anyone_ really knew what was going on in the Asgardian's head as far as plans for the future was concerned was a little out of line. She smirked to herself. Of course, she was pretty sure Loki's plans for the future involved a lot of lying on the floor of that cave – and that didn't sound much like global domination to her.

The agent – she hadn't cared enough to remember his name – gave her a disgusted sneer and reached for the cell phone in his pocket. He flipped it open, listened for a moment, and strode angrily out of the room.

Cara only had to wait a couple of minutes before a tall black man with an eye patch took his place, flipping idly through a file she assumed had her name on it.

"Cara Walker," he mused. "Age 26. Daughter of Charles and Erina Walker. Sister to John Walker – deceased. Studied gunsmithing at the Colorado School of Trades. Dropped off the map five years ago following the car accident that took your brother's life."

_Unimpressed. Common knowledge._

"When you were six, you had a dog named Orion. Golden Retriever. He was blind, but your neighbor says he was 'the sweetest thing ever walked on four legs.'" He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

She smiled at the memory._ Forgot about Orion. _She still wasn't particularly impressed, but she decided she might give the man some credit and pay slightly more attention to what was going on.

"You haven't been particularly helpful to this point, Walker –."

_Huh. No _miss_ attached. Must be someone important._

"But I'll be taking over the questioning from here on out. And I don't have a boss I'm trying not to piss off, so I won't be as nice as Agent Summers."

_Bingo. Boss._

"I should warn you – Loki's not exactly on my list of favorite people. He killed a lot of my people last year, and I'm not too thrilled that he's back on this rock without my thumbs up. Got it?"

She grinned darkly, and her lip cracked open and started bleeding again. Part of her really hoped Loki would come waltzing in through the sliding door and ream this guy a new asshole. She could understand where he was coming from, but torture's torture and she really wasn't a fan.

**Ѡ**

Steve crossed his arms and stood thoughtfully in the viewing room on the other side of the glass. He was doing his best to contain himself enough to not barge in on Fury's "interrogation" and bust some faces in, but his control began to slip when they put a canvas bag over the woman's head and started getting ready to start water boarding. His knuckles were white against the bright blue fabric of his hoodie as the muscles in his jaw worked themselves into a knot. He wanted to find Loki as much as the next guy, but torturing young women didn't seem like the way to go about it to him.

Fury and the glass between them were saved by the smooth entrance of Tony Stark. "Who's she?"

"They picked her up in Alaska," Steve replied tightly. "They think she might know where Loki is."

"Alaska, huh? Got some weird people up there. Loki'd fit right in." There was a moments silence. "Guess they think our favorite little demigod has something to do with the atmospheric and geological disturbances up there?"

"You mean the weird clouds and the earthquakes? I guess so. Nobody feels like taking the time to explain it to me."

Stark winced when the girl started thrashing under the torture. "You okay with this?"

Steve glared pointedly in response.

"Thought so. Seems a little extreme for a 'might know where Loki is.' Take it Fury doesn't care for your opinion."

"He said to keep out of his business."

Stark grinned. "That's never been my forte anyway." He held the door open as he left. "Shall we?"

**Ѡ**

Fury was about to start the next round when there was a forceful knock on the glass door. He motioned for a break and exited, leaving a spluttering, disgruntled Walker behind him. He really hoped she had the answers he was looking for. The Council was getting more than impatient.

He opened the door to the stony, no-nonsense faces of Rogers and Stark. He probably should have known better than to expect them to keep their noses out of places they didn't belong, but nothing ever turned out the way it should. He readied himself for the verbal barrage he was sure would come – as well as his forceful retort and exit – before his phone vibrated angrily in his pocket.

**Ѡ**

Loki trudged into the small town as Rattatosk vanished back into the woods. They hadn't stopped to rest since the squirrel had made contact, and had made good time. Unfortunately, however, Loki was beyond cranky and was frustrated with the fact that he still had no idea of where to look for Cara. He glared at passerby for a few minutes before resolving to go door-to-door.

He strode forcefully into the first store on the right and glanced around the definitively unpopulated space until he located the shopkeeper. It was a small, unimpressive building. Wooden walls with shelves tacked haphazardly about. Pelts and knickknacks and various other oddities hung from nearly every surface – and Loki thought he might have recognized the rough craftsmanship of some of the bone trinkets hung up on the counter. The shopkeeper was equally unimpressive – old and pear-shaped with glassy blue eyes. He had a pair of spectacles perched precariously on his large nose which magnified his eyes, giving Loki the impression of a strange insect more than anything else.

"Can I help you?" the pear man asked with a slight frown.

"You," Loki growled. He decided against playing word games. "Where. Is. Cara."

Realization flitted across the man's face as he hustled forward. "You must be Loki." He placed an arm around Loki's shoulders and began pulling him gently towards the back as he began to ramble. "Cara told me to keep an eye out for you. You look awful, by the way. I would have expected Cara to keep better care of you than this. I'll have to have words with her when she gets back –."

"Yes," he cut in pointedly. "Where is she?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has her. Looking for you, I expect." The man began pulling clothes out of a dresser drawer in the back room, holding them up and trying to determine what would fit and what wouldn't. "Shower's over there," he pointed to a small compartment in the corner. "I suggest you wash off and get dressed. Then we'll talk."

"I really don't have time."

The man glared at him in the way that only grandfathers can. "You expect to go riding off to her rescue in a scorched sweatshirt and someone else's pants? I don't think so. If you're gonna be my Cara's white knight you're at least going to be clean." He shoved a small pile of clothes into Loki's arms before turning and closing the door behind him.

He grumbled to himself as he stripped and set to learning how to turn the "shower" on. Humans had to make everything so much more complicated than it needed to be. Why couldn't they just have bathhouses like everyone else in the Nine Realms?

Admittedly, he did feel slightly better when he stepped out of the hot water and donned clean clothes. He would have preferred a suit to the rugged denim and wool, but he wasn't about to be picky. He got the feeling that he'd be back in his rags if he opened his mouth to complain. Taking a deep breath and gathering his thoughts, he smoothed back his damp hair. He needed a plan.

Thoughtfully, he fished the small cell phone from the agent's black pants. Loki smirked as a plot began to form in his mind before there was a knock on the door. The old man entered.

"What's your plan, then?"

"I require transportation," he stated simply, continuing to think.

"So you're just going to walk up to their front gate and demand they give her back?"

"You don't give me much credit, old man."

The man glared. "My name, Loki, is Tom. And from what I've read about you, your plans haven't seemed to work out very well lately. So you'd better come up with a good one."

Loki glared back. "You're not the only one who cares for Cara. You need not worry, shopkeeper. I will get her back." For a moment, he felt himself drift into a memory. _You lack conviction._ Tony Stark had called the man "Phil." Loki hadn't much cared at the time, but he thought he knew what "Phil" had been talking about now. For the first time, Loki truly knew he had no choice but success – not for his own sake, but for someone else's.

He felt something click into place within him and he knew exactly what he had to do.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've had everything written out in a notebook for a week and haven't had any time to type it all out for you! The next couple of chapters should be up fairly quickly, though. Hopefully you'll enjoy it despite the wait. **

**I know there are a few plot holes and character defects in here that haven't been closed up yet, but I promise that everything is intentional and will be explained in time. **

**Ѡ**

Steve bristled with righteous fury as the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. motioned for him to wait. The woman behind the sliding mirrored doors was getting a short reprieve from her interrogation – a drawn out process that had lasted over two weeks. Steve was beginning to believe that she really didn't have the answers S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking for, although no one else seemed to share his opinion. Then again, no one wanted to share any information – like how they figured Loki was on Midgard – with him anyway.

Stark shot him a look that kept the Captain from ripping the cell phone from Fury's ear and smashing it against the wall. Clenching his fists, he took a deep breath to calm himself. A few minutes didn't make any difference. Loki's accomplice or not, young women were _not_ going to be tortured any more under his watch.

He watched with some small measure of satisfaction as Fury's expression turned from surprise to anger.

"You're in no position to –." There was a pause as the person on the other end cut him off. "No, you can't. You're dealing with me. I'm not about to hand off –." Another pause. The frustrated expression painting his face was enough to earn a smirk from Steve.

Fury growled and held the phone out in front of him. Steve thought this was the first time he'd ever seen the man lose a fight.

"It's for you," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Steve, dutifully confused, took the device and held it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Captain Rogers, I hope." The smooth English accent on the line made his blood boil even as a chill raced up his spine.

"You've got a lot of nerve, Loki."

"So I've heard," came the dry reply. "It seems that you have something of mine in your possession. I'd like her back, if you don't mind."

"I can't just give up prisoners, Loki – especially your spies."

"She's not a spy, believe it or not. I realize how unlikely this seems – especially coming from me – but I really don't have any hostile takeovers planned for this trip to Midgard. So spies would really be unnecessary. In any case, I'd like to propose a trade."

Steve took a moment to decide whether or not to believe him. The man _was_ the Norse diety of lies, after all. Caution seemed to be in order. He decided to play along for a while. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm appealing to your sense of honor here, Captain." Steve could hear the strain in his voice where he was holding back what were probably snarky "Captain America" jibes. He could tell Loki was trying his best to be serious. "Hence why I'd rather have as little involvement with Fury's organization as possible. Considering what they'll get out of the bargain, I don't think you should have much trouble convincing them to keep their noses out of this."

"Spit it out, Loki. What's the deal?"

"It's simple, really. I give up my freedom in exchange for Miss Walker's."

He reviewed the offer in his head, trying to make sure he'd heard that right. "How do I know this isn't a trick? I'm not particularly inclined to take you at your word."

"I seem to be without my powers. You'll note that otherwise I'd already have Cara free and we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you need extra insurance I'm not up to any mischief, you'll do well to remember that you have as your prisoner the only person in this realm I really give a damn about, and I'm not in much of a position to play games with her life." There was a pause. "Of course, I'm assuming your moral sense will keep Fury and his thugs from mischief as well. I would prefer, all things considered, not to be double crossed in this instance."

Steve remained silent, recognizing the fact that Loki didn't really have the right to demand anything after all he'd done. He was surprised when his thoughts were echoed by the Asgardian in question.

"Please." The word was harsh, as if it were being choked out of a dying child. "I know my history with you is far less than spotless and that you have every reason to refuse me. Cara has done nothing to you – nothing deserving of punishment or your prejudice. I will not resist you or the Avengers in any way, provided you honor this last request."

Captain Rogers thought that was probably the most sincere speech the Trickster had ever – and likely would ever – make. Considering that Loki was likely giving himself up to a death sentence, Steve decided he couldn't in good conscience refuse the man's last request. The woman's battered and mostly limp form flashed before his eyes and he felt a measureable amount of guilt for not speaking up against her treatment sooner. "It'll be a few days before she's able to travel. Tony and I will keep her in Stark Tower until the rendezvous. We'll contact you with the where and when within the next twenty four hours." Without waiting for a reply, he snapped the phone closed.

Fury's face was twisted in outrage. "You don't have the authority to conduct a prisoner exchange with _my_ prisoner."

"You're getting Loki in the deal."

"I can get Loki without releasing Walker. She's been aiding and harboring a _planetary_ fugitive for god knows how long. She should be in federal prison, not out walking the streets." The Director's arguments were getting thin. If he wanted her in federal prison, he should have sent her to federal prison and not be resorting to water boarding her for information she may or may not have.

"Loki is Asgard's prisoner, not ours. Which means Miss Walker also answers to Asgard for helping Loki. She hasn't done anything against the law and you have no right to hold her – you know that. I strongly suggest you let the Avengers handle this for now. It'll be your mess soon enough and it'll go a lot more smoothly that way." He gave Fury his best no-nonsense glare before marching into the small, mirrored interrogation room.

**Ѡ**

Loki wondered if the strange mixture of dread and satisfaction he was currently feeling was a common thing for honorable people. He wasn't sure he liked it, as much as he knew he was doing the right thing. And Tom's facial expression wasn't helping in the least. It seemed to highlight how incredibly out of character his conversation with Captain Rogers had been.

Of course, it could have been just that the small town shopkeeper was suddenly much more aware of just who "his Cara" had fallen in with. not everyone could bully Nick Fury into handling the situation over to a third party – which had been significantly easier than he'd expected it to be. That being said, not everyone got to talk to Captain America on the phone either. It was great to be a god – even a fallen one.

"What's the verdict?" the old man inquired, doing his best to remain nonchalant. Loki admired the man's self restraint.

"Captain Rogers has agreed to the exchange. Cara is apparently… unfit for travel at the moment." Loki gritted his teeth in anger. He'd promised not to resist the Avengers, but Fury would answer for whatever state she was in. He knew that Fury had the potential to be unpredictable where he was concerned – Thor had gone to considerable lengths to ensure Loki's safe transport to Asgard for sentencing – but torturing Cara was one step – one very large step – too far. From the strain in Rogers's voice, Loki thought the Avengers probably agreed with him on that. "She is being removed from government control until the meeting." He paused for a moment. "It seems I will require lodgings for the next few days."

The man shrugged. "You can have Cara's room." He led Loki out into the street and down to a small house on the edge of town. It slowly occurred to Loki that he was probably looking at the closest thing to family that Cara had left. She'd told him how her relationship with her parents had disintegrated after John's death. Their treatment of meant that they didn't really count as family in his book. This man treated her as his own – even extending some of the same sentiment to Loki simply because he knew her. The fallen god was once again reminded of his own familial situation, and was acutely aware of how inadequate his treatment of them had been.

"Sue – my wife – tries to keep the room clean, although the dust tends to build up. You should be comfortable there for a while." Tom led him inside and closed the door. Loki was reminded of Midgard's younger days as he looked around. The cabin looked as if it could have belonged to a small Viking family. the walls were all wooden and decorated with various mammalian treasures as well as with rough charcoal sketches of the landscape. Devoid of electricity, the small cottage was lit with candles and oil lamps.

Loki attempted to keep disdain from his voice as he commented on the building's "quaint" nature.

Tom shrugged. "It's not much, but it's home. It looks like Sue's gone to the store to pick up something for dinner. Cara's room is right through there," he pointed to one of three wooden doors in the wall. "If you need to take care of your business, there's an outhouse near the tree line. We don't have indoor plumbing on the edge of town. Watch out for moose."

"Outhouse?" Loki had trouble remembering if he'd ever heard the term before.

"It's a small shack for you to take a shit in. It smells pretty bad, though, so I wouldn't recommend spending too much time exploring it."

He figured it was better than the bowl Cara had had him using in the cave.

"Other than that, if you need anything just come down to the store. I'll be down there for a while yet. make yourself comfortable, but," there was a slight twinkle in his teasing gaze, "don't break – or steal – anything."

Without an additional word, Tom walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving Loki alone in the house. The god sighed and found himself running his hand through his hair again. He still couldn't figure out how S.H.I.E.L.D. had known where he was. If Thor had told them, they wouldn't be upset – as upset – over him being there, and there wouldn't have been any need to kidnap Cara. If Thor hadn't told them, there wasn't any indication that he was here – aside from earthquakes, which could easily be explained away. He'd been trapped in a cave with no contact from the outside world for months – and Cara hadn't been out since before the snows. He was pretty sure that, unless she had been bragging before winter over how she was babysitting the would-be ruler of the Nine Realms – an occurrence which he highly doubted considering how talkative she wasn't – there was no reasonable way Fury could have known he was on Midgard.

So why resort to torturing a seemingly innocent woman? The action just didn't reconcile with any scenario he could think up – not to mention it seemed a little drastic even for Fury.

As he entered Cara's room, he was surprised to find several of her belongings scattered on the shelves. Bone fragments, carving tools, and other various knickknacks that probably came from the woods. There was a large pelt on the bed that looked to have come from a bear of some kind, and her pack was placed carefully in the corner of the room near a desk.

He turned the key on the nearest oil lamp to brighten the room before lifting the pack onto the bed. It was heavier than he'd thought it would be, and he made a mental note to tease Cara about her growth being stunted sometime in the future. Inside were all the things he'd watched her carefully pack in the cave before she'd left, and he realized she hadn't even had time to trade with Tom before being hauled off. He laid out the contents carefully on the desk – after having spent months with her alone in a cave, he didn't feel like he was intruding at all. He just wanted something to do that wouldn't make him feel like destroying anything. And, although he was more than exhausted, he was too restless to bring himself to sleep.

He'd watched Cara carving all winter without getting a good look at her work. As he pulled small carved pendants and boxes made from various materials she found in the woods and on her prey, he took plenty of time to admire the intricacies. She seemed to favor carving Celtic knots of all shapes and sizes – an affinity Loki fully approved of, considering how many Celts had worshiped him in the past. Knots had always made him feel appreciated somehow.

The pack was mostly empty when he produced a small bag in one of the side pockets. Loki dumped the contents into his hand and found that Cara had been keeping what looked to have been a small collection – a very small collection – of seashells in her pack. Considering it wasn't likely there was a beach nearby, he thought they must have been souvenirs from a now-distant memory. He frowned as he fished out the broken fragments of what had once been a whole – if outstandingly small – abalone shell. The less shattered version wouldn't have been more than three or four inches in length. The gleaming, deep green color was unusual as well, and had caught Loki's eye quickly. The edges were still sharp, leading him to believe that the fracture was a recent occurrence – Cara might not even know that it had broken.

Smiling to himself, he cleared a space on the desk as inspiration struck. It would take him a few days to have anything presentable, but he had great plans for that little broken shell. Glad to have something other than what he was going to do to Fury when he got his hands on him occupying his thoughts, Loki sat down to a new project, surprised once again that he was doing something nice for a mortal.

**Ѡ**

Nick really wasn't particularly upset about the Avengers taking over. He almost preferred it at this point, although he'd been perfectly content to keep them out of S.H.I.E.L.D. business up until now. He just needed to make sure Rogers didn't make a habit of giving him orders.

He had only known for certain that Loki was on Earth a few days ago – and that had been when he'd decided to escalate his interrogation tactics. He'dOne of the teams he'd sent out to comb the woods had called in to report being knocked unconscious with a rock from behind, as well as to report a missing phone and pair of pants. They'd apparently found the cave Walker and Loki had been hiding in – it was obvious that they'd both been there for some time – but hadn't noticed it was still occupied. He'd have to have a talk with them about that. Agents getting bludgeoned by people from behind was going to give the Division a bad name.

So he'd given the god a few days to show himself before attempting to instigate contact. He was well aware that Loki had the ability to show up at will just about anywhere on the planet and had been hoping to give him a good reason to show up where he could arrest him. From Walker's rambling comments as well as what they'd learned from the cave, it was clear the two were fond of each other. At least, as fond as someone like Loki could be of a mortal. Fury had begun to think that the relationship was rather one-sided before he'd received the phone call that morning. It was only then that it occurred to him that Loki might not have access to his magical abilities.

In fact, if that were the case and Loki was enjoying his imprisonment on Earth instead of on Asgard – a situation Fury was less than fond of – it would explain a great deal. That being said, it was hard for him to completely regret his previous decisions. He'd been more than desperate for information, believing that a psychotic mass murderer with superhuman abilities and an obsession over power was on the loose on his planet without his permission. And the girl had had some very choice words to spit at him over the past several weeks. There wasn't any permanent physical damage, and he had already had reason to question her mental stability. She _had_ seemed to have spent a great deal of time with Thor's brother lately, and that was a big clue-in to something being incredibly off about her. She'd be fine in a few days.

At least, that was what he always told himself when he had to resort to torture. Having experienced it first hand, he knew very well that he was lying to himself. But sometimes lies were necessary in his line of work. That being said, he was exceptionally glad that he hadn't been wrong about Loki being on Earth.

It had literally taken a few months for an analyst to consider the possibility that the high levels of gamma radiation in the north might be connected somehow with the earthquakes that seemed to be ravaging the landscape. And it had taken a few weeks after that for anyone to bring it to Nick's attention. The gamma signatures, as it turned out, were consistent with Tesseract activity, which probably meant that there were Asgardian's on the planet who weren't stopping by to say hello when they visited. As if that wasn't rude enough, Thor had been missing in action since returning to Asgard with his brother. No one had been able to successfully contact him in the past year or so, which leant itself to worry and irritation. So if it wasn't Thor, and if the Asgardian was going to lengths to avoid being noticed by the common crowd, Fury felt the need to investigate.

At first, he'd looked into Walker to be a woods guide to help his agents search the area surrounding the disturbances. When that hadn't been particularly successful, he'd started poking around the town, learning that the woman's refusal to take anyone out into the woods was unusual for her. All things considered, that made him slightly suspicious. His suspicions had been confirmed when Summers had overheard Loki's name in a short conversation between her and the shopkeeper who seemed to be her closest point of contact with the outside world. The small, inconsequential comments she'd made about the god's character had only served as further proof of their acquaintance. And that had been where the interrogation had began.

In his defense, he'd asked nicely for nearly two weeks before taking more drastic measures. Two weeks was a long time when it came to dealing with the Norse god of Lies.

He suppressed a groan as he sat down at his desk. He would, of course, have agents accompany the Avengers to the rendezvous point. He wasn't about to be completely butted out of the situation if he could help it. There was too much at stake.

He watched on the view screen as Rogers and Stark carried the mostly unconscious woman to the spotless Audi in the parking lot. Forgiveness for his actions was probably very far out of the question, but hopefully having Loki in custody would be worth a slightly tarnished reputation.

He had a few choice words saved up for the god of thunder whenever he finally showed up.


	9. Chapter 9

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who finds this whole thing strange."

Stark was doing research on potential meeting places while Steve was having a beer on the couch. So far the best candidate was the Bifrost site in New Mexico where Thor had first showed up.

"I suppose even Loki can appeal to some people," Steve shrugged. "I guess it speaks to her judgement of character, though. One way or another."

"You suggesting Loki has a soft side?" Stark teased. "You're remembering who we're talking about, here, right?"

"It could happen. Doesn't mean I believe it, but it could happen. Any thoughts on why he's here this time? It can't just be trying to seduce women – you've still got the trophy for that achievement and Loki doesn't seem like one to accept second best."

"You never know. He's had a millennia headstart on me. He could just need one more," Stark laughed before growing serious – well, as serious as he ever got. "I have no idea what's up his sleeve this time. He's been here for, what, six – nine months as far as we can tell? On and off, of course. But he hasn't made any obvious moves yet. And _weeks_ is a long time for Loki, let alone months. If you ask me, it's got something to do with this chick. She lasted two weeks without giving up any vital information. But that doesn't even make any sense. She has no connections to the world outside that little plot of land in Alaska."

"Makes you wonder…"

"You really can't be serious."

Steve shrugged noncommittally and took another swig. He couldn't get drunk, but he could still try. And drinking with Stark was probably his best chance. "No contact with Thor, yet?"

"I keep sending messages, but there's no answer. I feel like maybe we should have made sure he knew how to use a cell phone before I gave him that thing. Remind me not to make assumptions."

"You won't listen even if I do."

"True, but then at least you can say I told you so."

"Have you tried actually calling instead of sending text messages? His hands could be too big to work the screen right."

"He can expand it. It's higher tech than those shitty little S.H.I.E.L.D. screens."

Steve just raised his eyebrows. He really didn't need to repeat Stark's earlier statement about teaching the Asgardian to use a phone.

"Loki figured it out easily enough, apparently."

Steve's response was interrupted by the door to the adjoining room squeaking open. Both he and Stark stared anxiously as the short, bruised redhead stepped into the white-carpeted living room. They had thought she'd be fast asleep for the next several hours, considering how little she'd been allowed to rest in past weeks. There was a moment of intense awkwardness as the two men tried to decide what to do and the girl squared her shoulders and stared back, mouth set in a grim line.

Stark, naturally, was the first to pull himself together. He took a gulp from his brandy glass and smiled charmingly. "Thought you'd be asleep."

"Funny thing about being a prisoner. You don't sleep well." Her expression didn't change, and Steve got the distinct impression she was testing the waters, trying to figure out what had changed and why.

"'Prisoner' isn't exactly the word I'd use."

"'Hostage' better?"

"I was going to say something along the lines of 'guest,' but 'hostage' works if you really want. I'm sure I have some handcuffs lying around if that'd make you feel better."

"Tony," Rogers interrupted pointedly.

"What? I won't complain if she doesn't. Although I think Pepper would probably be upset with me." He smirked at the girl, and Steve watched the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

"You're not a prisoner, Miss Walker. We just thought this situation would be more preferable to everyone involved for the time being."

"So I can leave?" Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"If you so choose. Although S.H.I.E.L.D. will probably look into taking you back into custody if you do. They seem to have a lot riding on you currently."

"You're going to have to explain that last part."

"Loki has contacted us and plans to turn himself in to Fury in return for your freedom."

Her face went blank. "Loki?"

"Yes. He called us earlier this morning."

"That somehow seems unlikely to me."

"Why is that? Don't think he cares enough?" Stark had his arms crossed at this point, watching her reaction carefully.

"Last time I saw him he wasn't in a very good position to be making phone calls."

**Ѡ**

Loki had quickly decided the "outhouse" was probably the most unpleasant place in the area to visit. After the initial onslaught of odors and flying insects, he found he couldn't quite stomach the idea of going inside and sitting down for any length of time, however infrequent. And so, he'd chosen the colder, more degrading, and _cleaner_ option of finding a good spot in the surrounding woods to relieve himself whenever he absolutely needed to. After a few meals of Sue's cooking, he found himself "absolutely needing" to at least once every two hours or so – which was frustratingly interrupting his progress on the small personal project he'd begun.

It had been two days since he'd talked with Captain Rogers, and he was getting impatient. How long did it take to find a place to meet? He'd already talked his way around town and arranged for a small airplane – the pilot was a friend of Tom's and of Cara's – to take him just about anywhere he needed to go. He figured he'd get Stark to pay the bill, considering he'd probably be imprisoned fairly shortly after landing.

Oddly enough, the thought didn't really bother him. He'd thought he would have been sitting around trying to come up with an alternative plan that involved both he and Cara walking out of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters scot free. But here he was, sitting at a desk and not worrying about it. He'd accepted what he had to do and had stopped thinking of what the consequences were. Then again, he'd been chained to the floor of a cave for several months. Anything was an improvement over that.

**Ѡ**

Thor found himself grinning widely as he came across the empty cave. The shackles were lying broken on the ground, and there were no signs of his brother or Little Wolf. He felt himself brimming over with joy at Loki's release, knowing that such a feat could come only with his brother's change of heart.

As he took a closer look, however, he started to get the feeling that something had gone wrong. The contents of the Wolf's small cart were scattered around the cave as if they'd been thrown to the floor. There were signs of a brief scuffle near the cart, as well as a large rock splattered with blood. Thor was no tracker, but he could read the footprints in the soft dirt plain as day. Two people had been standing near the cart when a third, walking lightly from the direction of the chains, had snuck up behind them and hit them with the rock. There was no sign of Little Wolf, but the tussle looked like Loki's work. His brother had always favored stealth, especially when outnumbered.

He frowned and began searching the ground outside for clues. What had happened to the Wolf?

A noise from his pocket attracted his attention and he pulled out the small glass plate Tony Stark had given him. The device had a tendency to beep at him occasionally, but he hadn't been able to figure out why. This noise, however, was different. As Thor looked at the tiny screen, the glass lit up with a picture of Stark's face and a small picture of a green telephone. Feeling curious, he touched the phone and was surprised when the screen suddenly changed.

"Thor!" Stark's voice drifted up from the device, and the big man looked at the glass in his hand in confusion. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Stark?" he asked, turning around slowly. "Where does your voice come from?"

"From the phone, big guy. Put it up to your ear and you'll hear better."

Thor did as he said and found that it sounded like Stark was right beside him. Midgard's technology never failed to amaze him.

"Where have you been, Thor? I've been trying to get a hold of you for months."

"I am sorry, my friend. It seems I have much to learn about this phone you gave me. I did not realize what its purpose was." Thor felt rather foolish for his ignorance, but he had no problem admitting it. The first step to learning was to recognize the limits of his knowledge.

"We've got a bit of a situation. Loki's back on Earth."

"Yes, I know." He furrowed his brows in confusion. Why was Loki's presence on Midgard a "situation?" Had his brother found an alternative way of getting free?

"What do you mean, you know? Did you chase him here yourself?" There was a brief pause in which Stark sighed and Thor tried to come up with a better way of explaining. "Nevermind. Just meet us in New Mexico at the Bifrost site tomorrow afternoon. We're meeting Loki there."

Without another word, the line went dead. Thor returned the device to his pocket and sat down on the ground to think. What had his brother gotten himself into this time?

**Ѡ**

Cara hated Stark Tower. She hated the smell of cement and carpet lingering in each room. She hated the cool, still air wafting in through the vents. And most of all she hated the windows – the floor to ceiling glass panes that revealed all of Manhattan to the onlooker. As far as cities went, Manhattan wasn't the least attractive of the bunch. After all, her parents lived in L.A, and New York was much preferable to her tastes. But still the complete lack of green unnerved her after being in Alaska for so long. As did the sheer height the Tower had her perched upon.

Considering how many damned windows were in the building, Cara found that she couldn't get much rest in spite of how hard she tried. She often wandered out onto the balcony for, although the view wasn't any better, at least there was a steady wind that reminded her of home. She was sitting outside when Captain Rogers found her.

Of everyone she'd met in the past day and a half or so, Rogers was by far her favorite. He was quiet and reserved and Cara found that most of the time she could forget that he was even there if he wasn't talking – and Cara greatly valued her privacy, although she rarely was alone in the tower.

"We can get other things for you to eat, you know. Just about anything you want." He smiled at her as she munched on an ever-present package of saltine crackers. She'd found Stark's stash under the counter within an hour of waking up. "I remember when I woke up the first thing I went for was a cheesesteak."

She chucked, but shook her head, pointedly keeping her gaze away from the edge of the balcony. "I've been living on what I could catch for the past five years. Most of the food out here is too rich for me. Plus," she popped another white square into her mouth. "I missed crackers that aren't stale."

"We'll have to take you out somewhere when your stomach adjusts. Tony's got a long list of restaurants he's been wanting me to try, and I may have to drag you along."

She raised her eyebrows, beginning to feel uncomfortable. "You asking me out, Rogers?" she teased. "I think you might be too tall for me."

He laughed. "No, no, no." She thought she saw a slightly haunted look flash through his bright, sparkling blue eyes. "It's just nice to have someone around who misses almost as many references as I do. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

She could understand that. She'd missed a lot more in five years than she'd thought she would. "I don't think the others would take well to me tagging along," she pointed out. Stark and Banner, who'd showed up a few hours earlier, looked at her as a curiosity – as if she was something interesting to study. Barton, on the other hand, who'd followed her from S.H.I.E.L.D. within the day, seemed to think she would make a good target for one of his arrows. The man's intense, brooding gaze seemed to follow her everywhere and made her wish she had her own bow in her hands.

"They'd get over it." He glanced over his shoulder to where Hawkeye was moodily polishing his bow inside. "Eventually."

"What's his problem, anyway? I feel like he'd love to hold a magnifying glass over my head for a while until I burned up."

"He's got a history with Loki. More than the rest of us."

"What happened? I get being upset over tearing up New York, but this seems like more than that."

"Loki, uh, used mind control to make Clint work for him at one point."

"Mind control. He can really do that?" Cara felt a slight chill creep down her spine, wondering how much power over herself she'd given to Loki versus how much he'd gained on his own. She knew that he was something of a sorcerer, but mind control had never even occurred to her.

Rogers shrugged. "It had something to do with the scepter he was carrying around all the time. According to Thor, that was something a little beyond what he could normally do."

At once, Cara felt ashamed for her suspicions. After everything she'd been through in the past few weeks, she shouldn't be allowing herself to doubt whether or not she could trust Loki. Regardless of his past outside the cave, he'd never done anything to her to make her doubt him. That being said, she now understood Hawkeye's obvious dislike of her. He'd been forced to do Loki's bidding against his will. For all he knew, she was playing along for the fun of it – completely willing. Not that there was anything sinister going on, but the point still remained.

She stuffed another cracker into her mouth in irritation. After tomorrow, none of this really mattered anyway. Loki would be in government custody and she'd be back in the forest hunting Spring's game. Somehow she doubted she'd be satisfied with daily life knowing firsthand what would be happening to her friend. She found her mind drifting back to the last morning she'd woken up with him. Part of her wished she'd given in and just kissed him then. It didn't seem likely she'd find herself in that situation again. And how many people could say they'd kissed a Norse god, let alone the arch enemy of Asgard and the Avengers? Then again, not many people got to stay in Stark tower with the Avengers themselves, but that wasn't the point. She could always try and sneak a kiss in tomorrow, but somehow tomorrow seemed too late.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a fifteen hour flight from Alaska to the Bifrost site, and Loki quickly discovered he never wanted to fly in an airplane again. The only other aircraft he'd been in was S.H.I.E.L.D's small cargo plane when he'd let himself be captured by the Avengers, and that experience hadn't been altogether pleasant either. There was the helicarrier, too, but he couldn't quite bring himself to call that flying whale an aircraft. The "cessna," as the pilot had called it, was infinitely more rickety and infinitely more terrifying. Without his powers or regenerative ability, he found the thing walls of the plane to be somewhat of an insufficient barrier between him and the long drop to Earth's surface.

Which is why he was astounded that he managed to fall asleep for most of the ride. He woke up just before touching down in New Mexico, and immediately wished he'd stayed asleep for the landing. In comparison, flying really didn't seem so bad.

He climbed out of the plane on shaking legs and took a moment to compose himself. It really wouldn't do for him to meet the Avengers looking like he was about to throw up. He added small airplanes to his list of vehicles he would have to avoid – along with trucks. His first truck ride, although immensely productive, had been anything but pleasant. He smirked to himself. It had probably been more pleasant, however, than that of the woman agent who'd been chasing him at the time.

Feeling more like himself, he turned to survey the area. He was a bit early for the meeting – Stark had clearly said afternoon, not morning – but that suited him just fine. He had left shortly after receiving the information for the rendezvous point to make sure he wasn't late. Cara wouldn't be staying in their hands a single moment longer than necessary.

Loki didn't have to wait long before a helicopter appeared on the horizon. Remembering how Fury's helicopter had exploded in pieces on the ground the same night as his truck ride, he felt his stomach turn slightly at the thought of experiencing a new form of transportation. Maybe they'd lend him a horse to ride to the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost. He watched as a small point of light came into focus near the vehicle and realized Stark must be in his metal suit. They were really taking this too seriously. He'd been here for months. What did they think he was going to do now?

He grinned as a few ideas popped into his head. None of them were practical, but the thoughts made him smile nonetheless.

He straightened out his green wool coat and ran a hand through his hair as the helicopter landed. Thanks to Cara's persistent haircuts, the dark locks barely touched his shoulders and had a habit of falling in his face at inconvenient moments. He would have liked to slick it back in his usual fashion, but, as Tom had eloquently put it, "beggars can't be choosers."

Ironman clanged to the ground with his usual flourish, and Loki couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the man's defensive stance. Although the precautions were unnecessary, he wouldn't deny that it felt good to be held in such high regard. He didn't have respect, but he supposed fear was good enough for his current purpose.

The doors to the aircraft slid open and Loki's grin turned quickly to a scowl as a number of agents poured out along with the Avengers.

"I thought I made it clear that Fury was _not_ to be involved," he growled. There were so many things that could go wrong with this plan he wasn't willing to take chances.

"Relax, Antlers. Fury just wanted a little insurance so we let a few of his guys tag along for the ride." He could almost feel the furious tension in Stark's voice through the suit's speakers. "Your deal is still with us."

He watched as Captain Rogers stepped down out of the craft. The man turned and offered his hand to the woman who was Loki's entire purpose in being here. As the sunlight hit her red mop of hair and her eyes met his, he felt his heart nearly stop in his chest. Her face was bruised in various places, and she was much thinner than she had been when he'd last seen her. But she broke out in a smile when she saw him, and he couldn't help but smile back. Not for the first time, he wished he still had his magic. He would have taken her hand and gone far from this place – somewhere the rest of the universe couldn't find them.

Unfortunately, this was all he could do. It didn't seem to be enough. She deserved so much more than he could give her.

She walked with a slight limp as Rogers brought her over to stand with the rest of the Avengers. The group looked much the same as the last time he'd seen them – angry. He smirked to himself at the slight differences. He didn't have an arrow pointed in his face, and Banner was much less… _green._

"Where are the rest of you?" he asked innocently, wondering if his brother and the Russian were hiding somewhere, ready to jump out at a moment's notice.

"They couldn't make it," replied Stark firmly. Barton's fierce gaze was boring into him. Loki knew the man would have liked nothing better than to send an arrow through his eye socket – he'd even told him so at one point. Loki couldn't exactly blame him. He wondered how an arrow would compare to successive venom drips. He didn't particularly care to find out, but the point of curiosity remained.

Banner on the other hand, was casually studying the now-faded lines on the ground of the Bifrost site. The man didn't really seem to care one way or the other that the being that had destroyed Manhattan nearly a year ago was standing right in front of him. Loki couldn't for the life of him figure out why he had come along for the ride. The man was more of a liability than insurance against incident. The only thing that could be said for his presence was that most of the people there would be sure to keep their tempers in check for fear of raising his heart rate.

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments. The relatively simple exchange was made complicated by the sheer amount of tension in the air. Loki was waiting for someone to try and kill him. Everyone else was waiting for the punch line of the prank. He was sure they all believed his intentions were less than honest. He was the god of lies, after all. Honesty wasn't something that came particularly naturally to him.

If there was one thing he could be honest about, however, it was that he didn't like how close Rogers was standing to Cara. The man had a protective hand on her elbow, as if he were afraid she'd fall over without his support.

"If I could have a word with Cara," he asked pointedly. Every face turned to him became marked with suspicion. He waited for them to think it over and realize that if he was going to do something he would have done it already.

"Five minutes, Loverboy," quipped Stark. Loki's eyes shot up in surprise. "Loverboy?" What had Cara told them? From the glare on her face, he decided the Avengers had made their own assumptions without any assistance.

Loki nodded and took Cara's hand as she stepped towards him, leading her a short distance away. Privacy was probably out of the question, but at least he could get a little further away from his audience.

"You're going to have to tell me how you got free at some point," she commented when they had reached a sufficient distance.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," he chuckled. He held her at arm's length for a moment, studying her face. "You're alright?"

"I'm fine – well, mostly." She smiled in reassurance. Somehow the dark circles under her bruised eyes didn't help convince him.

"You looked bigger from the ground," he teased.

"You calling me fat?" her brows raised in mock suspicion.

"No. Short."

"Thanks," was her dry reply. "I think I liked you better in the cave."

"It's a compliment." She smiled as he defended himself. "Someone has to be able to reach the bottom shelf."

"You're not digging yourself any further out of the hole, you know. Short jokes aren't made up for by _more_ short jokes."

"Gotta fit them in where I can." He hadn't really realized how small she was until he found himself looking down at her. Now that he knew, though, the sheer amount of material for teasing was irresistible. He smirked. "Sheer amount."

"Yeah, yeah. You're so funny. It kills me." She was acting upset, but the mirthful gleam in her eyes told him otherwise. That being said, he had other things to attend to in the short time he had left.

"In all seriousness – " He chuckled midsentence at the smirk that appeared on her face. "I have something for you." He could almost feel the tension in the area escalate as he slipped his hand into his pocket. "I found the shell in your pack already broken. I hope you don't mind."

He watched with a measureable level of satisfaction as her eyes widened at the sight of the gleaming green carving in his hand. He'd worked hard to smooth out the edges on the knot and was pleased by the result. It was, after all, _his _knot. If he had his magic, it would truly be something extraordinary. As it was, the two entwined snakes were as close to perfect as he could get them. He was pleased that it was enough for her.

Her small, calloused hands drifted up to gently touch the curving lines. "I've never really been one for jewelry, but I think I'll have to make an exception," she smiled.

He unwound the leather cord and slipped his hands behind her neck to tie the ends together. "I didn't want to leave without giving you something to remember me by."

He smiled as he saw mischief alight in her eyes. "I can think of better things to remember you by."

"Oh really," he laughed, thinking he might know what she meant. He gently brought her closer to him, not caring who was watching. He wasn't about to waste the precious moments that were all that was left between him and whatever Fury had concocted for him. And there was something he'd been wanting to do for a while.

Cutting off whatever teasing reply she had planned, Loki bent down and brought his lips to hers, taking full advantage of the gasp of surprise she gave in response. With her body pressed flush against his, her lips soft and responsive to his own, he thought kissing her felt as good as he'd imagined it would.

**Ѡ **

Cara slid her arms up around his neck as he pulled her flush against him. She could feel every sinew of his body pressing firmly into hers. He cradled her head gently even as his arm slid firmly around her waist. There were no questions – no tentative ministrations or movements asking whether or not she returned his feelings. Not the slightest hesitation. He was telling, not asking – firmly explaining _why_ she was worth everything he was doing, and demanding her affection in return for his actions. And for one glorious moment, everything but him disappeared. There were no stunned onlookers convincing themselves they were hallucinating. The threat of separation no longer loomed over their heads. It didn't matter that he was a god and she lived in the woods, or that life was about to fall apart around them. It didn't matter that this was all there would ever be. All that mattered was that he wanted her – all of her – and that she wanted him back.

And then it ended, as all moments must. Their lips broke apart as they each gasped momentarily for air. Her eyes opened to meet his bluish green orbs and she felt her heart lift as he smiled. Everything was going to be okay.

"Goodbye, Cara," he said softly, brushing her hair away from her face. And life snapped back into focus.

"Wait," she breathed, panic and dread threatening to consume her. But he couldn't wait. He slid gently past her to face the others, mouth falling to set in a grim, determined line. "Loki…"

He moved away from her, and one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents took out a gleaming pair of handcuffs. Wait. No. Not okay. They couldn't take him. He hadn't done anything. Not okay. Definitely not okay. They had another thing coming if they thought they could simply drag him off. She wasn't about to sit there and watch like the damsel in distress while they shut him away.

She vaguely became aware of a large pair of hands restraining her. She kicked at the red-clad feet behind her and tried to leap away, clawing at the air as she glared at the agent handcuffing Loki with murder in her eyes. Steve was shouting at her, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. She could feel the water closing in over her head. She couldn't breathe. The last rational corner of her mind told her that she'd snapped – that she needed to regain control of herself. But the image of Loki sitting in a chair in that little mirrored room was too much for her to handle. There wasn't any way she was going to let that happen.

"Let go of me!" she growled, straining against Steve. He was too strong for her, though, and her mind was beyond more dexterous means of escape. Vaguely she realized there were a number of weapons trained on her. Hawkeye had drawn his bow. Stark had a repulsor aimed and ready to go. And various firearms were more than ready to pump her full of lead. She didn't care. Loki was in handcuffs, and she was going to kill the man who'd put him there.

A resounding _BOOM_ cut her plan sort as a shockwave knocked her and Steve to the ground.


	11. Chapter 11

Cara felt much more rational as she pushed herself up from the dirt. Although, Steve, rightfully, watched her very cautiously. She shrugged in a noncommittal apology and glanced around curiously for what had made the noise.

Stark lowered his hands. "It's about time," he muttered, turning away irritably. "We were about to have a mess."

Cara glared at the billionaire. It was already a mess. She hadn't quite understood what Loki's plan had been. Now that she knew, she wasn't happy in the least.

"I did not realize I was late." She spun around to identify the voice behind her and was met by the sight of a large blonde man with a hammer. Between newspaper stories and Loki's descriptions, she recognized him instantly. Somehow, however, she hadn't quite expected him to be so _big_.

The man caught sight of her and grinned widely. "Little Wolf!"

"Huh?" She didn't have time to phrase a proper question when she felt herself crushed in an embrace and lifted off the ground. She got the distinct impression, as she was attempting to continue breathing, that Thor was a very open with his emotions. She was pretty sure, although he'd never met her before, that she had his approval, although the "Little Wolf" thing would probably remain a mystery for a little while longer. "Nice to meet you too, Thor," she gasped as he set her down.

He beamed widely at the small crowd, taking note of each face. No one but him was particularly pleased, although some of the Avengers – namely Banner – looked somewhat relieved. "Where is Loki?"

Cara crossed her arms and waited patiently for someone _else_ to explain. She couldn't help but feel some level of satisfaction, however, that she wasn't the only one who had been poorly informed. There was a good reason why she preferred living on her own.

"I think we just got him loaded into the helicopter," Bruce casually replied, slipping easily back into his cool, carefree demeanor. He shoved his hands into his pockets and strolled towards the aircraft. Cara couldn't help but like the man, in spite of his time bomb-like quality. His quiet, reserved, and completely carefree attitude was usually somewhat contagious.

She couldn't figure out whether that was supposed to be an invitation or a dismissal, but Thor seemed to make up his mind rather quickly. He stalked decidedly after the doctor. Cara followed after him, wishing she knew what the Thunder god's plan was.

She had to bite her tongue to keep from speaking when she rounded the corner to peer into the cabin. Loki, eyes haunted and downcast, had been outfitted with the same muzzle-like contraption she'd seen him wear in the papers. He was strapped into his seat securely, buckles tightened down on his shoulders to prevent him from moving and handcuffs chained to the floor between his feet. His captors were taking no chances, and Cara found herself wondering, not for the first time, about the specifics of Loki's reputation with S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Brother!" Thor called, obviously unconcerned with the restraints and simply happy to Loki. Steve laid a hand on Cara's shoulder as they gathered outside, delivering a silent warning. She was beginning to wonder whose side he was rooting for. He clearly didn't mind locking the Trickster up for the rest of eternity, but the whole protective bit was giving Cara an opening to work with.

Loki's eyes shot up to meet the sparkling blue gaze of his brother. Cara watched her own emotions flash across his face – surprise, anger, confusion. His gaze flickered uncertainly between the faces in the crowd, trying to figure out what was going on.

Thor beamed down at Cara, who had crossed her arms and was glaring at him. She got the distinct feeling that they were in this mess because_ someone_ had neglected to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know that Loki was serving his sentence on Earth, in the Allfather's wisdom. From the slight flush she saw creeping up his neck, she knew she was right.

"Fix this," she stated pointedly. If no one was going to listen to her, maybe they'd listen to _him_. Or at least to his hammer.

In an instant, Thor flipped a switch within himself. His happy, open demeanor disappeared to be replaced by a king's wrath. His very presence demanded respect and obedience. Cara felt a shiver creep down her spine as his stern gaze fell upon his friends.

"Release him."

"Did you really hear what just came out of your mouth?" Stark's quip perfectly annotated the expressions on everyone's faces, including Loki's. He looked to be just as surprised as everyone else that Thor was demanding his release.

"Loki has paid for his crimes. You have no authority to punish him further."

"Somehow I doubt he's had _that_ dramatic of a change of heart in a year. Especially when you consider the fact that he's on _Earth_ again. Or hadn't you noticed?"

"The Allfather had imprisoned him on Midgard. He is not here by choice. And if he was the same man he was a year ago, he would not have been able to leave his prison."

"You have to be joking."

While they argued, Cara decided she would take Thor's support as permission to start working on getting Loki free. The muzzle was the first to go. His amused gaze followed her as she explored the contraption, wondering what in the world there was to be amused about. They were only arguing for his life a few feet away. There was a latch at the back of his head that looked important, so she worked on prying it up, doing her best not to get distracted by her cheek brushing against his. After that kiss, she got the feeling she'd have plenty of time to be distracted later.

"What did I tell you about taking my stuff?" The discussion behind her continued, conveniently trapping the attention of nearly everyone present. Cara kept part of her attention on Agent Summers, who was eyeing her darkly from outside and looked like he was still deciding on the best course of action regardless of whatever the Avengers would decide.

The muzzle came free with an audible release of air. Loki took a deep breath as she tossed it over her shoulder and started working on the buckles on his chest.

"If you keep saving me like this, people will get the idea that you're the dominant one in this relationship," he commented quietly.

She paused and let her eyes widen in mock surprise. "You mean I'm not?"

"Just because you keep finding me tied up everywhere does not mean you're in charge."

"I never said it did," she smirked. "I was under the impression we'd agreed on my dominant role the first time I gave you a haircut."

"When you get me free this time, I'm definitely going to have to revise your opinion."

"Not now, dear. People are watching."

"If that's your only objection, I know a nice little cave in the woods – "

"That you'll never get to unless I rescue you."

"I'll remind you that I'm only here because _you're _the one who needed rescuing."

"Details," she shrugged as the straps on his shoulders loosened. He still couldn't stand up because of the chain between his feet. She frowned as she studied the handcuffs. She needed the key – and she knew just where to go looking for it. She glanced up at Summers's darkened face. Before she could ask nicely, however, Thor strode over and yanked the chains up from the floorboards. "That works too, I guess," she muttered as she rose to her feet.

The big man already had his brother in a crushing hug. Cara, fully aware of the history between the two, watched carefully as Loki's tumult of thoughts and emotions made him pause for a moment before returning the embrace. Thor obviously had a great deal of affection for the smaller man – even after Loki's malicious actions and words. Cara felt a sliver of anger grow in her heart as she wondered why he hadn't intervened earlier in Loki's sentencing.

Realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "You were the one sneaking around outside the cave at night," she accused, ruining the happy moment of reunion.

Amusement danced in the Trickster's eyes as Thor stumbled to defend himself. "I wanted to make sure Loki was alright."

"'Alright'? He was chained to the floor with acid dripping in his face. How does that constitute 'alright'?" She could hear the Avengers muttering behind her. It was the first time she'd been open about how she'd found Loki all those months ago. She knew the description didn't do the punishment justice, but by their reaction she knew they got the basic idea.

"I was forbidden from interfering."

"So you stopped by to watch every once and a while? You could have done _something_ instead of waiting for me to come along. What if I hadn't showed up?"

"You really didn't know he was there?" Loki laughed, shaking his head. "For a hunter, you're fairly oblivious."

"I thought he was a wolf," she protested. "A very big wolf. I slept with one eye open every night even after the snows came."

"That's not the way I remember it," Loki teased.

"I did not mean to disturb you. I had hoped my presence would go unnoticed."

"Stealth has never been your strong point, brother."

"And _you_ could have said something." Cara turned her disapproving glare on laughing green eyes. "How did it slip your mind to mention a large blonde bear was snooping around?"

"I thought you knew," he shrugged, sharing a brief conspiratory glance with his brother. "Besides, I had rather more interesting things to pay attention to than my brother spying on me."

Cara plopped herself down in one of the seats and muttered about no one ever telling her anything.

"_This_ is really what you're going to be upset with me over?" Loki smirked, standing beside her. "There's a whole list of better things you could choose."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Cara had a decent idea what some of the responses would be, but she couldn't very well deprive everyone the chance to complain about the Prince of Lies.

"Invading the planet," Stark chimed in as the Avengers decided to join the conversation. It was tense, but she supposed no one could see a way around it now that Thor had deemed Loki "redeemed."

"Destroying S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters."

"And the helicarrier."

"Technically that was you, Bruce."

"And whose fault was it that the other guy made an appearance?"

Loki smirked. "I'm definitely okay with taking credit for that."

"What happened to the change of heart?" Steve smirked.

"That doesn't mean I can't still take pride in past achievements."

"Like when you promised Freya in marriage to the mason? I believe he turned out to be a frost giant, if I remember correctly." Thor's eyes danced as Loki protested.

"That horse should _not_ have been able to help build the wall. I maintain that was Odin's fault."

"That wasn't the only thing that horse shouldn't have been able to do."

"I thought we weren't going to bring that up again. Ever." Loki crossed his arms as the rest of the party perked up in interest. He glared at his brother while making a half-hearted move to cover Cara's ears. "You shouldn't listen to his stories," he muttered as she moved deftly away, grinning.

"Sleipnir is my favorite nephew. You shouldn't be so hard on him brother."

"You have a kid?" Cara asked dryly.

"I told you shouldn't listen to him. Sleipninr is happy in the stables – well taken care of and well loved."

"It's no place for someone who bears such a strong family resemblance."

"He does _not_ look like me." Loki paused. "Except for the eyes."

"Horses don't usually have green eyes, brother. You can't deny he got it from you."

"Horse?"

"Your son is a horse?"

"Yes, keep up with the conversation, Stark," the god of mischief continued to glare at the beaming blonde man as the rest of the Avengers tried to work out the details of the story. "They don't usually have eight legs, either, and that's definitely not something he got from me."

"Or his father."

The cabin burst out into laughter as the pieces fell together. Even Barton, who hadn't joined in the teasing, couldn't keep a satisfied grin from stealing across his face. Cara decided she'd have to get the rest of the details later after the horse jokes had died down. At the moment, she was more concerned with the hairs rising on the back of her neck. Her skin prickled uncomfortably as she recognized the feeling. Years of experience and playing cat-and-mouse with the wolves had taught her to heed her senses carefully, and they were telling her that someone close by was hunting.

Time seemed to slow as she spotted him. It was almost too late. The sight of the .45mm barrel was instantly sobering – especially when it was pointed at Loki's back. No one else was paying attention. They were all still laughing. The hammer was already cocked back – there was no time. Cara launched herself from her chair, unthinking, just in time to intercept the bullet.


	12. Chapter 12

**I was so excited about the last chapter when I got 7 reviews before the end of the night! Thank you so much!**

**Then I realized something really terrible. Y'all don't trust me. :/ Give me some credit here, people. She's my favorite OC too! I haven't even gotten to the good parts yet.**

**You guys should have more faith in me ;) lol. **

**Ѡ **

Loki felt a sudden rush of power as he heard the gunshot. He heard Cara's body hit the ground behind him even as magic tingled through his fingertips. But the sudden, inexplicable return of his powers didn't even register in his mind as he knelt by her side, confused by the blood on the floor. Realization hit him even as the Avengers sprang into action and Mjolnir whirled through the air above him.

"You stupid girl," he muttered as he surveyed the damage, pale hands shaking. "Why would you do that?"

She smiled faintly through a grimace of pain. "Seemed like a good idea at the time," she coughed, closing her eyes.

He should be the one dying on the floor. Not her. The bullet had been meant for him. He wasn't bulletproof like he had been a year ago – bullets hadn't been a concern in the least. Now, however, mortality was in the forefront of his mind. Not his own, but hers… He shook her awake, trying and failing to ignore the panic he felt creeping up on him. He couldn't help her if he couldn't think. "Open your eyes, Cara. You must stay awake," he demanded, forcing her to look at him.

There was so much blood on the floor. Blood on his hands. Blood on Rogers's hands as he worked to stop the flow gushing from her stomach. He tried to remembered what he needed to do. How many times had he seen his friends wounded and not batted an eye? He had always been able to keep his head. But not now. There was something about seeing _her_ blood on the floor – and knowing that it should have been his own – that threatened to unhinge his precarious grip on reality.

_Can you wipe out that much red?_

The question hardened his resolve and brought the situation back into focus. He was damn well going to try.

On Midgard, the wound in Cara's stomach would be fatal – a slow, agonizing death over the course of several minutes as the acids in her stomach leaked into the rest of her body. It was a terrible death. An idea struck him suddenly. He needed to buy some time.

Her eyes drifted shut again and he took her face in his hands. "Don't you dare close your eyes, Cara. Don't you dare." He had to refrain from shouting at her as he searched his memory for the knowledge he needed. She looked as if she might have protested before she winced and groaned.

Loki tried to think, allowing himself to recognize the return of his powers for the first time. He wondered why they were back, but could not spare the time to consider the question. All that mattered about it was that he had access to magic again. He was best at illusion magic – at deception. It was no coincidence he was called the Prince of Lies. But he would need something more real if he was going to save her. He knew no spells that would help, and regretted not listening to the Enchantress's lessons more carefully when he was younger. So he reached out instinctively with his magic, ignoring all the rules of magic his teacher had instilled in him. He could almost hear her mocking him. But he couldn't afford to care about that. If only he could slow the bleeding…

"Thor," he called over the sounds of chaos in the helicopter. The bleeding had stopped and he spared the briefest of moments to take in the scene of the Avengers restraining indignant S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and a furious Agent Summers lying on the floor with Mjolnir on his chest. His brother looked up at him – he wondered when he had begun referring to Thor as his brother again – and Loki didn't have to say anything more. There was only one thing Thor could do that Loki couldn't in that moment, and it was the one thing he needed to heal the woman on the floor beside him.

He briefly caught Rogers's glance as well, and knew the man understood. The Captain nodded grimly and stood to restrain Summers in the bigger man's stead. Loki didn't wait for anyone to protest before he stood with Cara in his arms, muttering to her to stay awake. He didn't know how he'd be welcomed in Asgard, but it didn't matter. She was worth the risk.

Thor's hand clamped down on his shoulder just as the Earth disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke.

**Ѡ **

Cara hadn't the slightest idea where she was. A white mist swirled around her knees as she walked, obscuring the rock beneath her feet. She was cold, but not uncomfortably so. She shoved her hands in her pockets to warm them up a little.

She tried to remember what had happened. It felt like remembering a dream. She'd been in a desert of some kind. Loki had been there – which was odd, considering the last thing she really remembered was him being in the cave with her. A man in a black suit had put him in handcuffs. Now that was ridiculous. There was no way she'd let _that_ happen.

But something told her that it had happened and she hadn't been able to stop it. There'd been something about a blonde bear and freeing her friend, but after that she couldn't remember because….

Her face whitened as she figured it out. She'd been shot. The pain in her stomach had been excruciating, but there'd been a strange light in Loki's eyes and he pain had gone away. It had felt so good to be in his arms.

Her hands travelled down to her stomach, expecting to find the wound but finding only dry cloth. She frowned before anger surfaced. She was dead? Now that wasn't fair. She'd only gotten one kiss.

"Welcome to Hel." A female voice spoke behind her and she jumped as she turned around.

"Hel? I didn't think I was that bad." The woman before Cara's eyes seemed to constantly be shifting from youth to old age. She was undoubtedly beautiful in every form she took, but the transformation was unnerving. There was a cold agelessness in her eyes that chilled Cara to the core. That being said, there was a certain familiar quality to her that made the hunter take a closer look instead of turning away.

"Ignorant Midgardian," she muttered. Cara wasn't sure whether or not to take offense. "Hel is the realm of the dead. I am Hela, Mistress of Death."

"So I'm dead then?"

The expression that crossed Hela's face was something between greed and supreme disappointment as she answered. "No. The Norns have forbidden me from claiming you. Your time has not yet come."

"Norns?" Grateful as she was not to be dead, she wasn't a fan of some other entity messing around with her life.

"They seem to think you have some greater purpose than you have as yet fulfilled. I'm not one to argue, I suppose."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Then why am I here?"

A frightening grin spread across her face. "I wanted to talk to you in person. Is it not natural for a daughter to want to meet the mother she never had?"

"I'm sorry?" There was no way she could have heard that right. Cara hadn't had any children – let alone a daughter who was "Mistress of Death."

"Terribly disappointing," she sighed as she turned away. "Then again, I suppose you still have some growing up to do. We'll see each other again, Mother."

Before Cara could open her mouth to say anything in response, she felt herself being pulled away by some unseen force. In an instant, the swirling mists of Hel disappeared.

**Ѡ **

Loki was running towards the palace of Gladsheim the moment his feet touched the rainbow bridge. Although the bleeding had mostly stopped, his magic had only added maybe minutes to her life as her stomach fluids escaped into her body. By the time he reached the city walls, she was already writhing in his arms. With every whimper that escaped her lips, he increased his pace, forcing Thor to keep up. The healing stone would do her no good if he was too late.

Thor called for help as they ran, and the big man's voice broke the stunned onlookers from their silence. A message to the healers raced ahead of them by word of mouth. Loki had always been jealous of how his brother could command the love and obedience of the crowds, but now he felt only gratitude. He didn't really trust himself to speak anyway. Besides, the only one he really needed love from was dying in his arms, and she was by far his first priority – not a popularity contest.

They had reached the steps of the palace before a healer made her way out to meet them, a small pouch in her hand. Loki vaguely recognized his old friends running down the stairs after her. It didn't matter. The healing stone in the pouch had his full attention. He released the magic over Cara's stomach as he set her down on the ground, letting the wizened woman work.

Loki watched carefully as the healer pursed her lips and crushed the stone carefully over the wound, trying to read in her face the severity of the damage. He didn't dare breathe as she took out a second stone.

"Well?" he asked at last, watching Cara's chest rise and fall with each breath. Her eyes were closed, and he thought she must have drifted off while he was running. It worried him. The hole in her stomach was closing, but there was more damage inside her than just what the bullet had caused.

"She is with Death." His heart stopped beating in his chest for a moment at the woman's quiet words. "But she may yet return to us."

Loki had to think about that for a while before it made any sense. Cara was hovering somewhere in between life and death. Her body slept while her mind wandered. He watched her breathe for a few moments before gathering her into his arms, reassuring himself that she was, in fact, alive. If he had to go to the underworld and confront Hela herself, Cara would open her eyes again.

He left Thor to explain his presence there to Sif and the Warriors Three and went in search of a room Cara could borrow.

**Ѡ **

Odin was in his study when a guard came in with a message from Heimdal. The words were simple – the gatekeeper had never had a need for eloquence – but had the Allfather striding purposefully through the halls of Gladshiem within moments.

"Your sons have returned."

It was the plural that caught his attention. There could be no mistake. Thor's visits to and from Midgard rarely warranted much heraldry at this point. The boy was visiting Jane Foster at least once a week, so his comings and goings were no longer of much interest to anyone. But a plural "sons" was definitely deserving of his attention.

He didn't have much of any idea where he should be looking, but the maids and menservants curious trek through the halls and confused expressions pointed him in the right direction. News travelled fast in Asgard, and, although the Allfather was often only second to Heimdal in sensing a threat, he was usually the last to learn the latest gossip. The task of keeping him informed often fell to his wife, Frigga.

There was a small crowd gathered around Loki's bedroom door, and Odin knew he'd reached the right place. Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three were trying to usher people away, but the curiosity was too great. The fallen son had returned, and everyone wanted to see it for themselves. Odin found himself wondering what had driven Loki to suddenly become so private – the transformation must be great indeed for him to pass up an audience.

As the gathered crowd became aware of the Allfather's presence, all whispered questions and hushed speech turned to silence. He carefully surveyed each face and said quietly, "Now is not the time."

That was all the command necessary for the party to disperse, each Asgardian going their separate way. The four warriors bowed their heads immediately and knelt before him, fists going to their chests in salute.

"Father – " Thor began, face creased with worry and the need to explain the situation. Odin had not intended for Loki's punishment to continue indefinitely – no explanation was necessary. He quieted his son with a slight smile and a raised hand.

"There is no need." He motioned for the warriors to stand. "Today I am only a father who wishes to see his son." Power and authority was all well and good, but there was no need for a mask in the presence of his family. He had done his own soul-searching during the past few years and had come to terms with his mistake. First and foremost, he was the Allfather – king of Asgard and ruler of the Nine Realms. There were times, however, when his sons needed their father, not their king.

It was true, Loki had confused and troubled Odin as a child. The boy had no aptitude for honorable combat. He had watched his sons train often, and it had been clear that Thor held a distinct and significant advantage over his brother. And where Thor had bonded with his father over tales of battle and bloodshed, Loki had been left to his own devices. Karnilla, the most powerful of the Three Norns, had seen something in the boy that Odin never could, and had trained him in the use of magic.

Although Odin did not entirely approve of such activities, he had to admit it had leveled the playing field between his sons considerably. Thor fought with his strength, Loki with his wits. And when they had finally ventured into the Realms – albeit against Odin's expressed wishes the first time – Loki's magic seemed to add an interesting twist to nearly every story they brought back.

And when it had come time to name Thor as his heir, he would freely admit there had been some reservations. The older boy had the love of the people, but had yet to attain wisdom. He had believed, however, that Loki would be able to temper his brother's rashness. They had always been two sides of the same coin, each contributing to the other's success. It had never occurred to Odin that he was giving the appearance of favoritism until Loki had brought it up.

The Allfather had been proud of both his sons, but it was entirely possible he had kept too much to himself.

Odin took a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders in preparation for what he was about to do. Perhaps it was childish, but he always found there were few things more difficult for him than admitting fault.

He was prevented from barging through the gilded doors by a slim hand on his arm. He turned in surprise to look into his wife's thoughtful face. "Wait," she said softly. Her normally penetrating gaze was now somewhat glassy, as it usually was when she was looking at something no one else could see. She rarely shared what she saw, but when she did it was always worth listening. He watched for a moment as she returned to herself, blue eyes regaining their almost frightening intelligence. He had always made a point of not getting on Frigga's bad side.

A small smile appeared on her face as she nudged Thor away and cracked the door just enough to peer in. Odin, dreadfully curious, followed suit, and had to blink a few times before he was convinced his eyes were not deceiving him.

Loki, obviously lost in thought, was seated in a chair beside his own bed, elbows on his knees and hands near his mouth. He was in simple, rugged clothes, including a pair of worn… "jeans," he thought Thor had called them. After his first few visits to Midgard, the god of Thunder had thought to bring back gifts for his family, among them a pair of the thick pants large enough for the Allfather. Almost more surprising than Loki's garb, however, was the fact that the man was covered in blood. His sleeves were soaked to the elbows, and the dark hair falling in his red-streaked face was caked with it.

It was then that Odin noticed the small, inert figure lying in the bed, carefully tucked into the green blankets. He was too far away to be able to see clearly, but he could tell the form was female – and deathly pale.

The Allfather glanced over his shoulder and delivered a "you've got a lot of explaining to do, young man" glare to his eldest son. Thor merely grinned sheepishly, so Odin rolled his eye and went back to watching, curiosity winning out over prudence.

**Ѡ **

**For clarification's sake, Cara is essentially in a coma. I blame Hela.**


	13. Chapter 13

Everything felt fuzzy – indistinct. She could tell that she was warm – which was odd because she thought she remembered being cold. She remembered blood. Bood on his face – his hands. Blood on her clothes. If only she could remember his name… Then there were the mists. The cold, swirling, deathly mists and the terrible, beautiful, ever-changing face of the woman without age. The woman who'd brought her there. There had been no pain in that place.

There was, as she began to notice, pain here.

With each breath she took, the world became more clear, as did the sore, aching pain in her stomach. At least, she thought it was her stomach. She decided against trying too hard to figure out exactly where the pain was coming from as she groaned with the slight movement of breathing. The sound seemed distant to her ears. The sudden urge to roll over and revisit whatever happened – or didn't happen – to be in her stomach at the time, however, was not so distant, and proved difficult to suppress. So, she decided to focus her attention on something else.

As she opened her eyes, she was greeted by daylight filtering into the unfamiliar room from somewhere behind her. She found herself surrounded by four polished bedposts made of a wood she couldn't quite identify and swimming in a sea of emerald green blankets made from a material she was sure she'd never seen. Upon closer inspection, she realized she was also in clean, unfamiliar clothes that she was fairly sure didn't belong to her. She decided against trying to figure out exactly what she was wearing – that would require more effort and moving around than she was willing to devote to the task.

She gazed down at the form slumped over and asleep on the side of the bed and smiled. The man was asleep, his dark hair falling in loose curls in front of his face. The chair he was in had been pulled close to the bed, allowing him to rest peacefully with his head falling near her hand. He always looked so calm and sweet as he slept, and she enjoyed watching him. Temptation to touch him, however, proved too great to resist, and she raised her hand to gently run her fingers through his hair, searching her brain for his name.

After a few moments, his eyelids drifted open to reveal his gleaming green orbs. She smiled as she watched his eyes widen in realization.

"Hi," she said softly, and he grinned.

"Hello," he replied, his smooth voice betraying his relief as he moved to sit beside her on the bed. He shifted his weight slowly – as if he knew it would hurt her to jostle the bed too much. She let her hand fall to rest on his knee as he brushed a strand of her hair back behind her ear. He didn't say anything for a moment – just sat there and smiled at her, letting his thoughts whirl behind his eyes.

She wondered what he would say – if he would be angry for getting herself hurt or if he'd be thankful. His gaze slowly began to show her the frustration and anger he'd bottled up while she was asleep. She wasn't sorry. How could she be? She'd spent six months babysitting him in a cave and he expected her to let him get shot. There was no way she was going to let all that work go to waste.

The argument died in his eyes as he saw the firm defiance in hers. It was not a fight he was going to win, regardless of who was right and who was wrong. She understood why he was upset with her, but that didn't mean he was the only one who got to care what happened to the other.

With a sigh, he leaned over and gently pressed his lips to hers, and she immediately wished she could ignore the pain in her stomach enough to fling her arms around his neck and hold him there. As it was, his hands supporting her – one behind her head and one at her hip – would have to be enough for now. It was meant to say all those things he wasn't ready to voice aloud, but it was more than enough. And it seemed to jog her memory into remembering all those feelings and tensions she'd bottled up for the past few weeks – as well as his name. Loki.

His green gaze bored seriously into hers as he slowly pulled away. "Don't do that again."

"No promises," she smirked.

"I'm not joking."

"Neither am I. Somehow, I was under the impression we weren't going to argue over this."

"I deserve worse than getting shot."

"You deserve a lot of things, Loki Odinson." The comment seemed to stop him mid thought, and he sucked in a breath in frustration, turning his face away slightly. She managed to lift her hand enough to turn him back to face her, although her midsection complained about it. "Fortunately for those of us who care about you, you don't get everything you deserve." That earned her a small smile. "Before we get too much further into this, mind telling me where we are exactly? For some reason I don't think we're in Alaska anymore… Or wherever we were after that."

"It's a long story."

"I'll bet. But I'll settle for the short version."

"For now," he smirked knowingly.

"True. But now you're stalling."

"How did you get to know me so well?"

"Still stalling."

He took a deep breath. "Don't be mad."

"Why would I be mad?"

"We're in Asgard."

"'Realm Eternal' Asgard? As in a different planet."

He nodded his head, watching her reaction carefully.

"I'm maybe not understanding why I should be mad."

"It was brought to my attention that you might not be happy with the idea I took you to a different realm without your knowledge." He shrugged. "Also, there have been certain…implications and requirements involved with coming here that I would have discussed with you first if it had been possible."

"Such as?"

"We can talk about that later."

She glared, although halfheartedly, as she wondered what in the world he was talking about. "Who brought it up?"

"Odin."

"I'll bet that was interesting."

"You have no idea."

"I take it that's another thing we can talk about later?"

"Probably."

"In the interest of peace can we chalk this up to being even for now? Tentatively speaking, of course. I don't know exactly what it is that you've gotten me into by saving my life."

"I won't complain about that."

"Good." She smirked up at him as he grinned down at her. "Can I have another kiss now? It's good to know I didn't dream the first one."

"Oh is it now?" he smirked. For the first time, she didn't feel oddly guilty at noticing how attractive he was when he was teasing her. That being said, it was also more irritating now that she couldn't do much of anything about it. He leaned close to her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips. Her breath caught in her throat in anticipation, but as she rose as much as she could to meet him, he pulled away, lingering just long enough to barely brush her mouth. He grinned widely as she frowned.

"Not fair."

"So do something about it."

"My stomach hurts."

"And whose fault is that?" He was trying to make a point.

"The bastard who shot me."

He laughed and shook his head as he slid a hand over her to rest on her stomach. And when he leaned over again, he did kiss her, cradling her head gently. Cara wasn't sure what she thought was more pleasant – the kiss or the warm, soothing feeling spreading from his hand. As the ache faded, she pulled him closer to her, pressing herself up against him and enjoying every movement of his mouth. Her hands buried themselves in his hair as his teeth tugged gently on her bottom lip. Just as he slid his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss as he shifted closer to her on the bed, the double doors at the far end of the room flew open with a bang.

Cara jumped in surprise at the sound as Loki pulled away quickly, his gaze going immediately to the source of interruption. Feeling slightly lightheaded and giddy at the recent memory of Loki's arms around her, she took a moment before realizing there were five additional figures moving to crowd around the bed, every one of them – except the dark Asian-looking one – grinning ear to ear. She only recognized the large blonde bear.

"Am I missing something?" she muttered, halfway to herself, looking to the smirking Loki for an explanation.

"Little Wolf!" beamed the bear.

Cara resisted the impulse to respond with a Goldilocks and the Three Bears reference. If he was going to insist on his pet name, she was going to have to come up with one of her own.

"It is good to see you awake!"

"Ummmmm…. thanks. I think. It's good to see you again too, Yogi."

Loki, being the only one in the room who had been exposed to the sixties cartoon Cara happened to have on DVD in the cave, was the only one who chuckled at the reference. Considering how she had no idea whatsoever how "little wolf" had come to be, she decided the blank looks she was receiving from everyone else made the playing field slightly more even.

She looked expectantly, if awkwardly at the other four shining, beaming individuals as the large, red-headed one coughed into his beard and set his hands on his rather robust middle.

"These are my friends – Lady Sif and the Warriors Three."

"I take it that's how they normally introduce themselves." She watched Loki continue to grin in amusement from the corner of her eye as Thor floundered momentarily.

"I am Fandral the Dashing." The blonde, who looked as if he'd walked out of _The Princess Bride_ and into reality, inclined his head dramatically, shifting his weight to his heels as he spoke.

"Hogun the Grim," the Asian-esque man stated plainly. Although his face remained stoic, as it had since he'd entered the room, his thoughts played across his eyes. Cara got the distinct impression he was just as pleased as the others that she was there – although she had no idea why. The reactions she was receiving seemed rather extreme to her.

"Volstagg the Voluminous, at your service." Cara silently renamed him Gimli. Although he was significantly taller than Tolkein's dwarf, she couldn't shake the impression.

Lady Sif had no need to introduce herself, as she was the only other woman in the room. And she was the only one Cara couldn't come up with a suitable nickname for. The woman smiled at her along with the others, seemingly not noticing the human's growing discomfort at not having anything of substance to say.

Thor, however, was not one to let the silence grow, even if it was amusing his brother to no end. "How was your journey?"

Cara looked at him sharply as the memories of Hela and her cold dominion rushed back to the forefront of her mind. "What?"

"The healer said you were with Death. Usually a visit to Hel or Valhalla is accompanied by an interesting story."

"Perhaps that's a conversation for a later time, brother," Loki began – audibly frustrated at the larger man's complete lack of tactfulness as he watched Cara's eyes glass over slightly. "She's only just awoken."

"Sorry, Thor…" She muttered, smiling half-heartedly at him. Confusion was written plainly on his face, and she almost felt bad for not having an answer for him. She knew, however, that her talk with Hela needed more consideration than she'd given it before she could share with anyone. And she had no idea where to start.

Introductions having been made and conversation quickly having died off, the larger than life visitors needed little help from Loki to shoo themselves out the door, with many a promise for later adventures called over their shoulders. The Trickster firmly shut the door behind them and turned back to the recovering mortal in his bed, waiting expectantly for her impressions of the troupe.


	14. Chapter 14

**BIG QUESTION! I really need an answer for this one guys. Should I continue writing this fic or tie it off and write a sequel? Leaning towards just continuing, but I know lots of chapters in one story can be a little overwhelming. Thoughts? PLEASE ANSWER! please… :D**

**That being said, this fic isn't really anywhere near being finished. I still need a main conflict lol.**

**Ѡ **

Thor caught Sigyn's arm as she brushed past him, attempting to enter his brother's room. The woman's fair, open face was alight with excitement over news of her beloved's return. Frigga had tried to stifle the flow of information as much as possible after the initial excitement to give Loki and the Wolf some degree of privacy during the redhead's long sleep, but no secrets were kept for long in the golden halls of Gladsheim. Three days had been all they could manage. From the look of utter delight on the Vanir woman's face, the Thunderer was concerned that she might not know of the company his brother was keeping.

"Thor," she smiled in greeting, confusion crossing her face. "How is Jane? I'm sure she was delighted to see you upon your last visit."

He smiled briefly at the memory of the small scientist's reaction to his weekly arrival at her doorstep. How she managed to love him – even after he'd broken his promise to return to her – was often beyond his comprehension. "She is well, Lady Sigyn. And how is your garden? You mentioned not long ago your roses were soon to be in bloom." Thor was not one for small talk, but the slight woman seemed so much like a child in her innocence he often felt the need to indulge her in conversation. She had always been so much his brother's opposite – how Odin and her father had ever expected the match to succeed would forever be a mystery.

"They're absolutely lovely. I picked some just this morning for your mother. Everyone's seemed so out of sorts these last few days." She laughed, and the sound reminded Thor of nothing less than the tinkling of small bells. "I suppose I understand a bit better since a few moments ago. Can you imagine the servants forgot to tell me he was back? I only heard it in passing. I'd still be wandering the halls without a clue in the world."

Thor couldn't hide his guilty grimace in time, and Sigyn was quick to be concerned for him. "Whatever is the matter? Are you well?"

"I do not believe now is the time to visit my brother," he stated simply, looking firmly into her warm brown eyes, which quickly turned to confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"That is a conversation for another time." He felt awful for concealing the truth from her – Sigyn had that effect on nearly everyone. He knew she would be hurt and conflicted when she found out about the Little Wolf, and he thought that perhaps it would be better if the subject were broached earlier rather than later. But that was a conversation his brother would have to have.

"What is going on, brother?" Her gaze turned slightly suspicious and angry as she slowly began putting some of the pieces together. He suppressed the inner twinge at how she addressed him, he was betraying her trust – had betrayed her trust – and he knew it. He was not her brother – not formally, at least – but they had always been as close as siblings, and there was a certain degree of responsibility there.

"Sigyn – " he entreated, but she had already jerked herself out of his grip and stormed to the gilded doors, throwing them open in front of her.

**Ѡ **

Loki thought he might just decide to die right then. As Sigyn – beautiful, innocent, devoted Sigyn – burst into the room, he was sure, at the very least, his heart skipped a rather large, important beat. There was so much he still needed to tell Cara, and he had thought he might have more time before coming to this particular bump in the road.

As he watched the shock and betrayal register on the blonde woman's face, he amended "bump" to "very large patch of quicksand." Although he was sure he cringed visibly, the external reaction he was having did not compare to the impressive panic attack he was having internally.

Cara, naturally, picked up on it. Although she hadn't known him for very long in the grand scheme of things, the hunter had a knack for sensing his shifts in moods that was almost alarming. If she was anyone else, he'd be worried that she'd gotten too close. Then again, it didn't take god-like powers of observation to notice him searching the room for a convenient exit.

The small woman was sitting cross legged on the bed, the tray of food Thor had just brought in for her planted firmly in front of her. One of the his old, plain shirts covered her shoulders, and Loki had been considering only a moment ago how nice the garment would look crumpled up in the corner of the room. Now, however, he only felt a wave of guilt surging through him.

Not for kissing her – no, there was no way in the Nine Realms he would allow himself to feel guilty for _that_. But he knew there were a number of things he probably should have told her in the cave.

Sigyn's eyes welled up with tears – the girl had always held her emotions on her sleeves. "Loki?" she asked quietly.

Cara stopped chewing the roll she'd been stuffing into her mouth to watch in what Loki would imagine to be some degree of masochistic fascination.

"Lady Sigyn." He inclined his head. Distance. He had to keep that distance he'd fought for year after year of being around her. All other methods of handling the situation he could think of would end in catastrophe.

"Brother, I'm sorry. She just – ." Thor emerged from the hallway, looking as if he'd killed a small puppy and felt horrible about it. In any other scenario, Loki would have laughed – or attempted to kill him.

"It's alright, Thor," he sighed, thinking to himself that it was anything _but_ alright. On the cusp of personal Ragnarok would be a more adequate description of how he was feeling, but it wasn't really Thor's fault. He had to pull it together.

"I just found out you'd returned," the goddess clasped her hands simply in front of her silver-trimmed white gown, doe-like eyes fixed demurely on the exceptionally confused human in the bed. "I didn't know… I thought you'd be…"

Loki watched her carefully. "This is Cara, Sigyn. She has saved my life on several occasions since I've been gone."

"And is that all she is to you?"

He considered the question carefully, knowing the answer she wanted to hear and also knowing that was an answer he could not give. She would not look at him. "No. She is much more than that." He could literally feel Cara fidgeting in burning curiosity beside him as she picked apart the bread in her hands. "Cara," he began, shifting his gaze to meet hers, "this is the Lady Sigyn, my – "

"His wife."

He looked up sharply at the quiet response. "We've talked about this before. You are not my wife."

"What would you call it then?" She could certainly look at him now, her slender frame trembling with the hot fury of betrayal.

"An arranged betrothal."

"For two thousand years. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It means you have been a dear friend for a very long time. Nothing more."

"So you will cast me aside for this mortal you've barely met?"

"Sigyn –."

"After everything –."

"Sig –."

"Do you –."

"Will you shut up!" he shouted at last, feeling his rage overtake his senses. He fought to regain his composure, although he knew he was very close to losing control and plunging back into the spiral of self-loathing he'd only just escaped. He took a deep breath, fists clenched into tight balls and white-knuckled with the effort. "I have deceived a great many people, Sigyn, but you have never been counted among them. I can never be what you have desired."

The blonde stood quietly, eyes on the floor, as if she were attempting to process new information and couldn't handle any additional input for the time being. Hopeful that the point would come through clearly, Loki risked a glance at Cara.

She was wearing an expression he'd come to know very well, although he'd only seen its true depth once. Usually the look preceded getting splashed in the face with searing venom. This time, however, the cold fury that consumed her seemed more akin to how she'd reacted the when he'd scoffed at her brother. Her hands were gripping the blankets at her knees with such intensity Loki thought they might rip beneath her fingers. Food was forgotten. Asgard was forgotten. He could see it in her face.

"Cara?" he called softly, afraid she might hurt herself so soon after waking up. Part of him recognized she would be perfectly fine – he might not end up that way, but she wouldn't do any lasting damage to herself before he could stop her. But he couldn't help but think of her as being more fragile than she'd been when she'd first found him in the cave.

Silently, she pushed herself up from the bed and padded to the door on bare feet. She paused for a moment before leaving, speaking coolly over her shoulder. "You have a lot of explaining to do. I suggest you get your story straight before I get back."

Thor, to Loki's supreme frustration, did nothing to stop her as she strode out the door and into the golden corridor. The Trickster quickly began to stride after her, but was stopped by the blonde bear – as Cara had taken to calling him in conversation – before he could do much of anything. And he'd been so long without magic, it didn't even occur to him to teleport away.

"Wait, brother."

"Thor –."

"If there is anything I've learned from Jane, it is to not follow women when they are angry with you. You'll only make it worse."

Loki wondered briefly when his brother had begun sprouting tidbits of wisdom at opportune moments, but was quickly called back to the matter at hand. "Thor," he pointed out, gesturing after the retreating form of the human woman. "She isn't wearing pants."

**Ѡ **

When someone becomes as angry as Cara was at that point, they have a tendency to lose focus on their surroundings. All that mattered was the ground beneath her feet and the thoughts raging through her skull. Vaguely, she realized that the few people around her were whispering to each other and giving her strange looks. But she was beyond caring for quite a while. It was only when she came face to face – or face to chest, if height was being taken into account – with someone who refused to move that she started paying any sort of attention to what else was going on.

She glared up at the offending individual, debating internally whether it would make her feel any better to pick a fight with someone. She was greeted by the amused blue gaze of a middle aged woman who seemed to radiate authority – probably not the best candidate for a knock down drag out brawl that Cara was destined to lose.

"Is something wrong, dear?" The woman's voice was warm and soft and breathed of everything a mother should be – the mother Cara wished she'd had but hadn't. Tears came unbidden to her angry glare and she looked away. Why was she crying? He was engaged. Better to find out now than later.

Cara couldn't bring herself to resist as the woman draped an arm around her shoulders and began leading her off somewhere, talking softly and comfortingly to her as she went.

"Come now, let's get you some proper clothes on and you can tell me all about it. I've been told I'm a wonderful listener, you know. I think I have something warm to drink in my chambers as well – yes, I think that should help."

The mortal – for that was how she was beginning to feel – trudged along beside her, remaining silent as angry tears slid down her cheeks. She wasn't listening in the least, and was far too consumed by the ridiculous sense of betrayal she was failing to keep in check. She told herself that a kiss meant nothing – there was no commitment in a kiss. He'd said nothing of having feelings for her. She'd simply let herself believe that it was possible. Stupid, stupid girl. He'd long been committed to someone else.

Some remaining sensible part of her tried to remember what it was he'd said before she'd left the room, but she elected to ignore that little voice inside her head for fear it was lying to her.

She barely noticed as the older woman brought her through another set of gilded double doors and into a warm, cheery dressing chamber. Cara was sat down in a large chair as the woman placed a small cup of some warm liquid in her hands and went about trying to find something that would fit the girl.

"Care to talk about it, dear?"

The hunter slowly began to decide it might be a good idea to pay a little bit more attention to reality, and two questions immediately popped into her head. Who was this woman who practically embodied maternal instinct? And how did she feel familiar enough with her to call her "dear" in every other sentence?

Since full sentences were still somewhat beyond her ability to formulate, Cara responded simply. "Sigyn."

"Ah yes. I was wondering when that particular issue would come up," the woman said casually over her shoulder. "I imagine it didn't go as well as it could have?"

Cara mutely shook her head and took a sip of what turned out to be warm cider. "Never mentioned he was engaged."

"I imagine it's never been very important to him. Odin and Sigyn's father arranged their betrothal when they were both very young – this was naturally before my husband learned that it was a good idea to listen to his wife. Sigyn was always very attached to the idea of marrying Loki, but he never seemed to pay much attention to it. I think if he was going to marry her at all he would have done it a long time ago."

Some of what she said made sense, and Cara stored the rest of it away in her mind for reevaluation after she'd calmed down sufficiently. "And Sliepnir?"

The woman laughed as she pulled something out of the large wardrobe. "Not too many people know about that particular tale. He's always been rather embarrassed about that escapade. Sliepnir is much more like a horse than a son – the exception being a peculiar number of legs. Loki's always been sure to keep him comfortable – and that horse never wants for anything. Beyond that, I doubt Sliepnir really cares too much."

Cara thought silently for a moment, allowing her senses to return to her. For some odd reason, she was more than overly inclined to believe this woman – although she was still working out exactly who she was. She seemed to know an awful lot about a lot of things people apparently weren't supposed to know a lot about.

She paused for a moment before her next question, wondering if this was the right person to ask. For some reason, this particular problem had been bothering her since waking up – and it didn't seem like something she could just blurt out in curiosity. "What do you know about Hela?" she asked, studying the cider in her hands.

"Hela?" This seemed to give the woman pause. "What about Hela? I don't think I know any relevant stories about her."

Cara proceeded slowly, gaining both confidence and rationality as she went. "When I was asleep… There were mists everywhere… She said it was Hel."

"It is not entirely uncommon for those in the deep sleep to be called for a visit to the underworlds. Usually it's to Niffleheim or Valhalla, though. Death does not often offer neutrality." She spoke with a cautiously curious tone, and Cara wondered what the differences between "Niffleheim," "Valhalla," and Hel were. Apparently there was a lot she was going to have to catch up on.

"She called me… 'Mother.'" She frowned, trying to recall the memory. "I think."

It took her a moment to realize that the woman had stopped rifling through old clothes and was staring at her thoughtfully. That clear, sparkling blue gaze bored into her as if she were seeing the hunter for the first time. Cara shifted uncomfortably in the chair, wishing she hadn't said anything. "Who have you told this to?"

"No one."

A long pause. "I will take you to Karnilla tonight after the feast. She often sees these things better than I."

"Karnilla?" The name sounded oddly familiar, and she started wondering if she'd forgotten anything about her conversation with Hela.

"She is the Queen of the Norns – and an old family friend."

"Queen? I don't think – "

The woman laughed heartily. "It is a little late to be concerned over meeting royalty, my dear. It seems you haven't met anyone outside the family since your stay here – excepting the Warriors Three and Lay Sif, of course."

The pieces came together quickly and the predominant thought running through the hunters mind was, simply, _Shit._ "You're Loki's mother…"

Frigga simply laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

Standing with his brother outside the grand dining hall, Loki wasn't sure what he found more stunning – the dress or the fact that the woman _wearing_ the dress was walking beside his mother. After Thor had prevented him from perusing the human, assuring him that she would be fine without his help and that the shirt she was wearing wasn't to revealing for an angry walk through the palace, the Trickster spend the rest of his day getting rid of a distraught Sigyn, thinking of the best way to go about apologizing, and worrying about Cara.

He had no idea what it was about the hunter that turned him into a pacing, thumb-twiddling, useless pile of organic matter when she was mad. He rarely – if ever – apologized sincerely to anyone, yet he found that every time she stormed out on him, he was ready with a full apology when she returned. Thor seemed to find it amusing in spite of the relationship advice he'd been spewing all afternoon. The end result, instead of being comforting and helpful, was that Loki found himself feeling more than a little bit pathetic.

The twinge of anger he felt at seeing her perfectly fine and smiling after having worried over her absence, however, was quickly eclipsed by the physical reaction he was having to how she_ looked._

The silky collar dropped to her shoulders before sloping to a shallow v between her breasts, leaving her short red hair to just brush her bare skin. The dress hugged her form to her hips, glittering with small jewels that caught the torchlight, giving off the rather stunning effect of smoldering as if it were about to catch fire. He felt no small measure of pleasure, however, when he noticed the green pendant he had carved hanging from her neck. The two entwined snakes suited her well. To top off the general splendor, the dress was even his favorite color.

Frigga, catching his awestruck stare, smirked smugly to herself before winking conspiratorially at her human companion and sweeping through the doors beside them and into the dining hall. Loki felt his brother clapping him on the shoulder in encouragement as he also left him with the object of his affection – conveniently alone in the corridor.

"You look lovely," he said as she approached him, determined to keep some degree of composure.

She beamed up at him, and he was glad she was pleased with the comment. Maybe all of Thor's advice wasn't completely useless. "You look pretty impressive, yourself."

He'd almost forgotten that she'd never seen him in his armor. For him, slipping into the burnished, golden attire was like the last step in coming home. His emerald green cape swirled around his ankles as he moved. Perhaps it was a little bit dramatic, but for the first time in a long time, he felt fully himself – the prince of a world of gods and the Master of Mischief.

She glanced up at the gleaming golden horns atop his head and sighed playfully. "As if you weren't tall enough," she joked, standing on her tiptoes for extra effect.

He grinned down at her. "With you in that dress, no one's going to be looking at me. But if it makes you feel better…" He smirked as her eyes widened at the shimmering disappearance of his helmet.

"I forgot you had your magic back. That's… really cool."

"I know." His smile faded after a moment. "Cara, I'm sorry I –."

"It's okay," she interrupted, reaching up to touch his face. Her hands were warm. "I think I understand a little better. I have a lot to learn about your life here, and if I get upset at every little thing you forget to tell me, I'm going to spend too much time being angry with you and not enough time in your company."

"True, but that doesn't mean you don't have a right to be upset."

"Yeah, but –."

"And my betrothal to Sigyn – even if it was arranged and involuntary – is probably something that should have come up in conversation at some point."

"So should your son."

He cringed. That was another thing he'd forgot. Apparently his descriptions of the personal life he hadn't expected to ever return to had been somewhat lacking. "Probably."

She sighed as he shot her an apologetic glance, offering a hopeful smile.

"If it's any consolation, I don't intend on marrying her. She's never been a particularly important area of my life – although she would probably say differently."

"That's what your mother said."

"Speaking of which…"

"She found me wandering around and decided I wasn't wearing an appropriate amount of clothing. She let me borrow this." She gave a turn, and the torchlight glittered off of her. "It's a little long, but we figured it would hide the fact that I don't have shoes on." She lifted the hem enough to wiggle her bare toes up at him.

He grinned. "Is it odd that I find the fact that you're going to meet the Allfather without shoes on strangely attractive?"

She shrugged. "I met the queen – as well as Sif and Company, I might add – without wearing pants, and I'm pretty sure your brother doesn't know my name. I guess I can add your father to the list." She laughed as if she wasn't the least embarrassed, but he could tell from the slight flush creeping up into her cheeks she was lying. "One of these days I'll get myself together and be presentable for something."

"I hope not. I find your mortal flaws rather endearing."

"You're only saying that because my first forty eight hours of contact with you was in relative privacy. No one had to see me leave you naked in a cave for a week."

"I do plan on retribution for that – eventually."

"You're sure we can't just call it even by now?"

"That wouldn't be nearly as much fun."

She sighed overdramatically before regaining some sense of composure – and gave a rare display of apprehension. "So, ummm… What am I walking into here?" Her eyes darted to the door.

"A small celebration for your recovered health. Nothing formal."

"I thought this was for you."

He grinned at the nervous expression playing across her face. "I haven't been formally pardoned or accepted at court yet. In all likelihood, we have several of these coming up."

"That's not particularly comforting."

"This one will probably be the smallest."

"That maybe helps a little. Who'll be there?"

"The family and friends."

"Family and friends accumulated over the course of several centuries? That somehow doesn't narrow it down very much."

He grinned as she scowled up at him.

"You're not being very helpful."

"Was I supposed to be?"

"It'd be nice, yeah. That is generally what boyfriends do – sometimes."

"Boyfriend?" He puzzled over the term, trying to decide whether he'd heard it before. He assumed it must be something Midgardian, so that narrowed his search to recent conversations with Thor.

"It means we're dating… Well, kind of. You kissed me and brought me home with you, so I'm kind of assuming that means you're interested."

"Interested in what?"

"Me."

Ah. Now he understood. "Was that ever a question?"

"Well, with the hair and the whining all the time, there was a period where I wondered."

"I'm going to have to put _that_ question out of your mind as soon as possible."

"Oh really?" She smiled deviously as she took a step closer to him. He tried to control the need growing within him, although the sheer closeness of her as her hands snaked up his chest was rather counterproductive to him remaining in control. He gazed down at her mischievous blue orbs and found himself immediately distracted by the rise and fall of her chest. "And how exactly are you going to do that?"

He groaned with the effort of restraint as he spun her around to pin her against the wall. "If you keep tempting me like this," he breathed into her neck, grinning at the involuntary shiver that crept across her skin. "We're never going to make it to the feast."

"I've never been a fan of meeting new people anyway." He could feel her small hands slip beneath his cloak to pull him closer, and he didn't need any incentive to press himself firmly against her. Although he wanted_ so _much more, he contented himself with capturing her lips forcefully. He had waited months, each day the desire to have her growing steadily into need. Each day, he had awoken to her beside him, her hands in his hair or on his chest and her legs draped thoughtlessly over his own. Her body had always managed to press itself against him in sleep – for warmth or comfort, he didn't care. And the simple agony of not being able to _touch_ her of his own volition had been driving him mad. Every time she'd drawn away had been another drop of venom in his face. The searing pain of having her face – her lips – so close to his on so many occasions and not being able to bridge the gap had caused him endless frustration. He could not explain how sweet it was to kiss her – and to have her kiss him back.

He wasn't entirely sure when exactly he'd become aware of the oddly powerful attraction he felt for her. At first she had been a means to escape – someone to cut the bonds and release him back into the world so he could wreak more havoc upon the universe. Then she'd been a friend – someone he enjoyed laughing with and teasing. Slowly – oh so slowly – she had opened his eyes to his shortcomings and how silly his hatred was. And never once had she judged him for them – a fact for which he was more than grateful. But the thing he found himself valuing most from his time on Midgard was the fact that somewhere between the dirt smudges on her face and her sharp, back-sassing tongue, he'd discovered exactly what had spurred the change in his brother all that time ago.

As he gained full access to her mouth, he thought that maybe that back-sassing tongue might have had more influence on him than he'd previously estimated.

**Ѡ **

Karnilla cursed as she watched the Prince of Mischief and the Hunter enjoy each other in the corridor. From her scrying glass, she could see all the universe at her command, and the fallen prince and his new love interest had caught her attention almost to the point of consuming her. Of all the pathways that could have been taken – of all the strings of choices that could have been chosen – this was the one that was most problematic.

In her mind's eye, the Queen of the Norns saw hundreds of Lokis battling hundreds of Thors. She watched time and time again as Loki was defeated and sent to suffer in the depths of Midgard. She saw dozens of outcomes. Lokis and Sigyns. Lokis and Angerbodas. Lokis. She saw Thors and Janes and Thors and Sifs. She saw the Wolf leave the Snake in the cave when she found him. She saw her give up the hunt. She saw her grow old and die in that small, pathetic excuse for a town. So many options. How had it come to this one?

Of all the strings in the web, Asgard's fate hung on this one possibility. All others led to Ragnarok – the Twilight of the Gods. She should have suspected when Loki hadn't married Sigyn – should have intervened then. But the possibility of him meeting the Wolf had been so remote it hadn't borne thinking about. Now all her plans were in shambles. Now Ragnarok could be avoided and the gods could endure for centuries more past their time.

Infuriated, she threw a nearby goblet at the wall with a scream of rage. They all sat down to their feast in celebration while she was thwarted unknowingly by a mortal, of all things. They _enjoyed _themselves. Their time had long since passed, though Karnilla had been slow to act. Loki should have long since had children with Angerboda the giantess – children who were crucial to the rebirth of the Nine Realms. Now those children would come to be in a twisted, warped version of the string – all because _someone_ decided to meddle.

She darkly thought she should kill the girl now and send Loki back into the necessary spiral of madness. The idea lacked tact, but she kept it at the back of her mind as an option. She would not allow that dark version of the future come to pass – that black hole in her vision that was the end of this path. No. Ragnarok was far better – and long overdue.

Straightening herself, she moved back to her glass, thinking. There had to be a way to warp this already twisted version of reality to her purpose. If she could not find a way, all was lost. And that was simply unacceptable.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since the last update. I have the next five chapters written in a notebook and haven't had the time on the computer to type them up. Hopefully I should be able to get them to you soon! In the meantime, enjoy. **

**Ѡ **

Cara tried her best to keep up with everyone she was meeting. After five years of relative isolation, however, she recognized the effort as a lost cause and turned her attention to _not_ making a run for it at the first opportunity. Loki's hand, firmly and constantly pressed into hers, as well as his easy smiles made mingling perhaps a little easier, but Cara suspected that his attention was having a negative impact on her ability to focus.

His hands were at once smooth and calloused – a state she attributed to centuries hard at study followed by a few short months lying idle in a cave. The fresh memory of those hands on her body, separated from her skin by only a thin layer of green cloth sent a shiver of pleasure racing up her spine. That steady rush that accompanied his lips on hers – his tongue in her mouth struggling for dominance – made even the grand golden halls of the palace seem plain. When Thor had poked his blonde head out the door earlier to remind them they had a feast to attend, his face flushed at the intimate scene before him, Cara had been ready to kill the Thunderer for interrupting. But Loki had merely smiled that smug little smirk of his, the heat in his eyes promising much more to come, before leading her by the hand into the feasting hall.

Seing him now, in full armor with those gleaming horns atop his head, cara struggled to reconcile the image of Loki the god with the Loki she had come to care for. He literally shone in the bright torchlight, and she wondered perhaps if she – creature of the woods as she was – might be too plain to stand beside him.

"You look ill at ease."

Cara jumped at the smooth, laughing voice in her ear and turned to see Fendral grinning down at her. It took her a moment to regain enough composure to reply.

"I'm only human," she shrugged, her hand tightening instinctively on Loki's as she tried to smile. She had much the same reaction every time someone in the room directly addressed her. Loki gave her a reassuring squeeze without pausing in the separate conversation he was having with someone else.

"You could have fooled me," the man laughed. "You look as if you might have lived your whole life here.

Cara grimaced half-heartedly. She appreciated the effort, but a false compliment was a false compliment, no matter the intention. "Is it more appropriate to laugh or play along when someone's lying profusely in Asgard? I haven't gotten very far on the common courtesies here yet."

She was glad the blonde man found her question humorous rather than offensive. "you, my dear, have either been spending too much time with Loki or not enough."

"Not enough, apparently," she smiled. " My clever deception at playing a god tends to shatter as soon as I open my mouth."

"At least you look the part – and that's already half the battle."

"All I have to do now is pretend I've been alive for centuries, find some exceptional skill no one else can do, and learn to speak in an accent."

"And perhaps gain a few inches in height."

"There's only so much I can do about that one. Keep the list realistic."

His grin softened a little as he grew more serious. "You feel out of place. You should not doubt yourself." The strength of the conviction in his face was fairly convincing by itself.

"I'm a mortal in a palace full of gods. I don't think my self confidence has much to do with me being out of place."

He merely smiled. "Bear this in mind, Little Wolf. Both princes of our realm returned to us from permanent exile because of mortals. That is something no one else here could have done – or perhaps even would have done. And for that you are held in no small regard."

"Ummmmm…. Thanks… I think."

He looked as if he were about so say something more when the room suddenly went quiet and Loki squeezed Cara's hand rather firmly. When she turned to see what was going on, her heart nearly stopped in her chest and she felt herself fighting the urge to bolt harder than ever. From the death grip Loki had on her hand, she could tell he was feeling much the same way. Frigga had apparently stepped out while everyone was making small talk, and she had returned with the rather imposing figure of a golden-clad Allfather on her arm.

Cara immediately began to wonder if the man ever smiled. There was a definite twinkle in his eye – as if he were slightly amused by the panic he was inspiring – but the mental image of the Allfather with a full smile seemed a little too out of place. Of course, she supposed she might be more than a little influenced by Loki's previous complaints and rants over the man's character and parenting flaws.

Frigga, however, was looking at the mortal encouragingly, beaming at her unreservedly. Vaguely, Cara became of aware of everyone in the room sinking to one knee in respect. At once, she realized her rather unique position. She was perhaps the only mortal in hundreds of years who had stepped foot in the Realm Eternal and had stood in the presence of perhaps the most powerful being in the known universe. And so, she did the only thing she could think to do as Loki sank to the ground beside her, tugging on her hand in an effort to get her to follow suit.

An inexplicable surge of confidence swelled insider her as she released the Trickster's hand and stepped forward, ignoring the mild shock playing across Odin's nearly unreadable face. She managed a small smile as she extended her hand towards him.

"Hi. I'm Cara. Loki's told me so much about you."

**Ѡ **

Loki had learned, perhaps better than anyone, that humans were inclined to favor equality over subjugation – regardless of their primitive history. He had not, however, expected to point out the fact so blatantly to the Allfather, himself, in all his golden glory. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or disappear into the floor more in that moment. He watched his father's face carefully for a reaction, prepared to step in and smooth things over if necessary. He wished Cara had given him a little bit more notice before going to shake hands with the reigning monarch of the Nine Realms, but some part of him suspected she really hadn't _had_ much of a plan.

Of all the people in the room, Thor – having spent the most time around mortals – was likely the most at ease, and even he breathed a small sigh of relief as Odin accepted the hunter's gesture, grasping her arm at the elbow. A rare smile broke across his face, reminding everyone instantly of his strong resemblance to his older son. Loki felt an old, momentary bitter pang of resentment, wondering how he'd ever thought that smile could have resembled his own.

Loki felt, rather than saw, the tension leave Cara's body as she stood beside him. The intense stress of Odin's brief moment of indecision, as the mortal had wondered if she'd made a grievous mistake, had taken its toll. It was a slight change, but the Trickster considered himself somewhat of an expert on Cara's changes in mood and behavior. He'd had precious little else to study in recent months. She was still recovering, in spite of what she would have him believe. And relief swept over her like a tidal wave.

He knew that, through his descriptions and shared memories, he had depicted Odin as a stern, unforgiving man – which was not wholly untrue. He had, after all, banished both of his sons in as many years, prepared for the possibility that neither of them might return. Every childhood lesson had been well-earned. And every lesson beyond childhood well paid for. He knew that in that moment of hesitation, every word he'd ever spoken of his foster father had rushed back to blare at her. He couldn't help but feel proud she hadn't backed down. If there was one thing Odin detested above all others, it was weakness.

Watching the mortal shake his father's hand as an equal in her own right, Loki almost felt the urge to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming. Yet, he reminded himself, Cara was no ordinary, run of the mill mortal. She was _Cara_ – the woman who'd been teasing him and scolding him nearly from the moment of their meeting. The woman who'd never once seen fit to judge him for his attitude or history or heritage. The woman who'd shrugged off the news that he was a frost giant as if he'd described something as simple as having a dog as a child – and had been surprised when that bothered him. Not for the first time since his banishment, he wondered if there was something immensely special about _all _mortals – if perhaps they were, in fact, more than ants. Or, at least, if he wasn't an ant, himself.

Nothing, however, seemed so strange to him as the words that next rolled off his father's lips. "Hopefully I won't live up to all of it. I fear these past months have been as enlightening for me as they have for my sons."

He could almost feel Thor beaming somewhere behind him, and the Trickster had to suppress the urge to turn around and glare at that somehow smugly innocent face.

"I don't think you need to worry about that, honored Allfather. Loki seems to be somewhat prone to exaggeration." Those sparkling blue eyes glanced down at him conspiratorially. A small laugh rolled gently through the crowd of curious guests. Loki reminded himself quietly to inquire after exactly _what_ she thought he was exaggerating about – and then to prove his words true. He couldn't help but smirk at the thought.

Odin made a slight show at noticing everyone who was kneeling. "Rise, my friends," he commanded gently. "This was supposed to be something of an informal event, after all."

Loki tried not to scoff. The only informal parties in Asgard happened in the taverns _outside_ of Asgard. And the only reason _those_ weren't formal was because people generally found it difficult to get off the floor when they were competing in drinking contests with Thor.

Almost immediately, chatter among the crowd resumed. Loki rose to his feet and slipped his hand around Cara's once again, enjoying the slight blush it brought to her cheeks.

"It seems, my son," the older man began, "that you have through happy accident at long last met your match."

He grinned. "The way these not-so-happy happy accidents have been turning out lately, I'm beginning to think they aren't really accidents at all. Mother, it seems, wasn't the only one who taught me how to cheat the rules."

"If you want to talk about cheating, you should go converse with your brother and Tyr. I had nothing to do with it this time."

"This time?"

Thor, having heard his name, had wandered over to join the conversation. "I didn't exactly break any rules, Father. I just… helped things along a little. The way things were going, she would not _ever_ have found him."

"And you've always been known for your patience, brother." Through his sarcasm, he noticed as the hunter beside him became somewhat suspicious and turned her speculative gaze towards the blonde man.

"Explain before I come to my own conclusions and decide to get upset with you."

"That isn't any less likely to make you upset, you know," Loki pointed out, watching his brother search his brain for a good way of confessing what he'd done. In all reality, the Trickster had no idea what the man was up to, and he was dreadfully curious – especially considering the small, satisfied smile playing across Odin's lips.

Thor braced himself before beginning. "I was less than pleased when the Allfather sentenced Loki – especially when I was required to carry out that sentence. Loki may have done terrible things, but he is my brother and I bear great love for him. And much of his bitterness was in no small part born of my own arrogance and stupidity. Because of this, and his place at my side as younger brother, I feel responsible for him and his actions. I had – have – no desire to see him harmed. So when I saw you in the woods, Little Wolf.." He shrugged his shoulders, as if that explained the rest.

"And?" Cara raised an eyebrow.

"Tyr and I conspired behind the Allfather's back to bring you to the cave. We decided to lead you there – indirectly, of course."

Realization hit Cara before it hit him – naturally, since he hadn't actually been present at the time. "You sent the stag," she accused even as her face fell in half-sincere disappointment. Thor grinned in pride and Loki broke out laughing, feeling rather proud of his brother, himself.

"I believe, Thor, that is the most subtle and clever deception I have ever seen you achieve."

"I was so proud of that kill…" Cara looked to him for support, but found only laughing eyes. He knew she wasn't really that upset, so he didn't feel bad about it.

"As you should be," the Thunderer complimented, trying to dig himself out of the hole. "It was no small feat to keep the beast from your bow range for such a time."

"But still… It just doesn't feel right now." Her eyes sparkled suddenly with renewed mirth. "_You_, Yogi, owe me a hunting trip."

Thor, who greatly preferred the lust and recklessness of open battle to the subtle skill of the hunt, began looking for a way out. "Now, wait – "

Loki simply continued to laugh. He was no fan of hunting, himself, but he thought he wouldn't mind so much if Cara was there – and if the trip came at his brother's expense.

"What a splendid idea," Frigga proclaimed, a plan shining in her eyes. He knew that look well. She was trying to get something. "A family hunting trip! It's been such a long time since we've all gone out together."

Odin, the self-proclaimed god of the hunt – among various other things – was no less enthusiastic about the idea, if more subdued in general demeanor, and immediately began considering the where and when.

"Oh, and Thor," his mother continued. "You must be sure to bring Jane along. I think our meeting is long overdue."

"I'm sure she has better things to do, Mother. She might even need my help."

Loki slung an arm around his brother's shoulders, refusing to let him slip out of the trap his mother and Cara had set for him. "And _I'm_ sure that she would be more than happy to take a couple of days off from whatever tedious study she's at to bond with her favorite thunder god and his loving, if more than slightly dysfunctional, family."

The Trickster had always taken pleasure in manipulating his brother into tight corners, especially when the game ended with that resigned, defeated expression Thor wore whenever he got roped into anything he didn't really want to do. Yet he thought he had never found the game as satisfying as seeing Cara grin in victory at his mischief. If indeed she was his match, as Odin had so aptly named her, she certainly wasn't going to have any luck at curbing his mischievousness if she kept smiling at him like that. It almost made him want to go tie string to people's ankles while they weren't looking.


	17. Chapter 17

Cara lay awake in her borrowed bed as she had for hours. Her fingers fidgeted with the soft, unfamiliar blue sheets as she sat propped up against the backboard, frustrated by her inability to relax. She could have blamed it on any number of things. The mattress was too soft. The sheets were too warm. She was in an unfamiliar place. She was anxious for tomorrow. Loki wasn't there. Or a number of other factors she didn't much care to consider. But, in fact, she knew exactly what was bothering her. Karnilla.

From the moment she had set foot in that large, open room and set eyes on that absurdly perfect face – all raven hair and blue eyes and full, red lips – Cara had gotten the distinct impression she was being sized up. The room had been tangibly charged with magic – giving a slight sizzle and pop with every little movement – but there was immediately a second, more powerful and likely more noticeable charge between them. That tension that always made an appearance when old adversaries come face to face. Only Cara had never met this woman before. Even now, the hunter could feel that cold, calculating, perfect gaze evaluating her every move.

Needless to say, Cara immediately had little-to-no intention of telling her anything.

Frigga had flashed an ever-kind smile at the woman and greeted her, but Cara found herself incapable of listening to or giving empty courtesies. Not that it mattered much. Karnilla had her own agenda.

"Hello, 'Little Wolf.'" Her oversweet tone had been more than mocking, as if she found Thor's nickname somehow ironically appropriate yet condescending. Cara got the feeling that the woman saw her as more of a mouse than a wolf. A very small, insignificant, inconvenient mouse. And Karnilla reminded her of nothing less than a cat. With a single phrase, the game had begun, and the hunter knew she was hopelessly outmatched.

"You wish to know why Hela called you 'Mother.'" She was sure the older woman had enjoyed the momentary shock that had played across her face. Cara decided she didn't particularly like being the mouse.

Without waiting for, or caring for, a response, the Norn Queen swept over to a large reflecting basin, blood red folds of her gown swirling dramatically around her bare ankles. "Hela exists out of time," she had explained matter-of-factly. "She is part of all possible paths – sometimes the daughter of Loki and Angerbӧda. Sometimes she just exists, transcending the necessity for biological origin. On this path, she is your daughter." She smirked slightly, as if at a private joke. "Or, she will be."

She decided knowing she was going to have kids took all the fun out of a great many things. While it was nice to know exactly what Hela was talking about, she didn't think she wanted to know very much more about her future if she could avoid it.

The conversation beyond that had been rather short and uneventful. She had trouble trying to remember what else had been said – a lapse she found somewhat disturbing. She wondered how much of what she remembered was what Karnilla _wanted_ her to remember, and how much was the natural forgetfulness of a troubled mind.

Giving up on sleep for a while – and postponing further consideration of the Norn Queen for a later date – she padded softly in bare feet over to the wide window. The walls of her room were curved, giving the window the feel of a covered balcony looking out at the golden city in the moonlight. The height still bothered her, but she found herself still too preoccupied to pay it much mind. Her gaze drifted out across the sparkling waters at the edge of the abrupt horizon. If she ignored the brilliant changing colors in the night sky – as well as the unfamiliar astrological formations and multiple moons – and how the sea seemed to just drop off into empty space, it didn't seem so different from home. The golden spires seemed to merge and flow with the landscape, complimenting rather than dominating it. There were more trees and waterfalls and bridges than she could count, mixed with the glittering metal Cara had yet to learn the name for, giving the city nothing more or less than a natural, warm glow – so unlike the polluted light of the cities she'd grown up in.

Yet in the wide empty space of the room she'd been given – she couldn't very well stay with Loki in his room now that she was awake – she felt alone and exposed. She missed the closeness of the trees and the cold embrace of rough stone walls around her. It was a vast improvement over the stark, unfeeling mirrors and canvas sacs in past weeks, but somehow she still felt trapped. Trapped by what, she couldn't say.

Loki belonged here in this shining world of parties and polish. Not her. And part of her knew she never would, even if she spent the rest of her days surrounded by immortals and legends and stories she could never hope to compare to – regardless of whatever esteem she may or may not have gained by returning the fallen prince to his home.

Loki. The thought of him made her both smile and grimace internally. He had given himself up to S.H.I.E.L.D. to save her, willing to face whatever tortured fate Fury and whoever he worked for could come up with. And she had nearly given her life to save his without a second thought. In other circumstances, she might have questioned whether or not her feelings for him went so far as the word "love." It was, after all, a little fast, all things considered. But they were beyond that now. Her subconscious and impulsive responses had skipped that cautious, speculative debate for her. Or perhaps it had been a simple, logical exchange. A life traded for a life. Yet somehow she doubted it was so simple. But could she do it again? Could she give up her life – everything she'd ever known and cared about – if he asked her to stay? And if not, could she ask him to leave and live with her on Earth?

No. She couldn't ask him for that. She was almost ashamed of herself for considering so selfish a scenario. He was only now coming home – only now viewing his world with new eyes and seeing that he could belong to it, in his own way. He would always be different than the rest, and it had little-to-nothing to do with the fact that he was occasionally blue. By keeping the truth from his son, Odin had allowed Loki to develop a sense of self outside of the influence of his heritage. He was different – had always been different – simply by virtue or vice of being himself. And Cara appreciated that fact deeply.

She could never ask him to leave.

She was suddenly tired of being restless and alone, and thinking of Loki had made her impatient to see him again. She had little doubt he would be awake. And if he wasn't, she had no doubt she would be welcome to crawl in beside him anyway. Cuddling at night had long ago transcended practicality as the weather had grown steadily warmer, and both of them knew it well. Silently, she left her room and made her way down the dim corridor. Frigga had been sure to tell her the way before leaving her to her own devices. Two left turns and she was standing outside his rooms, smiling softly at the warm glow coming from underneath the door.

He looked up as she entered, and his smile instantly made her feel a little bit better. He smiled for her – what did the rest matter for now? He set down the worn, leather-bound book he'd been flipping through and patted the area beside him, a wordless invitation to join him. "What has you up so late?"

She gave a small smile and crawled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle and relishing the feeling of having his arms wrap fully around her in response. The soft green fabric of his shirt felt wonderful on her skin. "I've only just decided to stop thinking about it. I'll tell you some other time when I've stopped being creeped out."

"Ah. Karnilla." He looked despicably amused.

"I thought I said I wasn't particularly interested in talking about it," she pouted, snuggling closer pointedly. He laughed and squeezed a little. "Whatcha reading?"

"You wouldn't be interested," he shrugged.

"That's not the point."

"Of course it isn't," he smirked teasingly. She gave her best longsuffering look as he merely grinned at her, eyes crinkled with mirth. "So what did the witch tell you?"

"Nothing I really needed to know. I've decided I don't want to know anything else about my future."

"Like what?"

"Nothing you would particularly like to know either."

"But it gives me time to plan ahead. The best tricks take time, you know."

"I really don't think you need any extra time to plan. Your 'tricks' seem to get you into trouble."

"That's only because I don't get enough time to plan around getting caught."

"Somehow I'm not convinced."

"Your faith in me is disappointing."

She laughed and rose up to kiss his cheek playfully. "You'd get bored with me if I supported you _all_ the time. That and you'd know I'd be lying a lot."

"Perhaps you need evidence what little faith you have is not misplaced so you're more willing to invest more in me."

She grinned. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

His voice grew lower as he slid down on the bed and shifted to pin her beneath him, eyes growing seductively darker with purpose. "I had a few ideas," he murmured softly in her ear as he bit gently at her neck. Cara's mood instantly shifted from playful banter to a more heated form of mischief as a shiver of pleasure ran across her skin. Tendrils of heat curled through her somewhere beneath her stomach; her hips lifted to press against his. He had her hands pinned firmly, but gently, above her head as he moved to take her earlobe in his mouth, teeth gently scraping the soft flesh as he pulled away slowly. He smirked at her reaction, obviously pleased at her response. "But we can always postpone." He was teasing her, allowing her to think for a moment that was as far as it would go.

"Somehow I don't think you're inclined to wait," she said softly, her voice deep with barely controlled desire as her eyes locked onto his.

The lust in his eyes was nearly overwhelming, and she could see how close he was to losing self control. "I've been waiting for months, dearest." He kissed her then, cutting off the reply that hadn't quite even formed in her mind before his tongue slid over her bottom lip, demanding entrance. Her hands slipped free to tug at the hem of his shirt, impatient for it to be off on the floor somewhere. She could feel the smirk on his lips as he stilled her hands – a silent reminder that he was going to be in control. As they broke apart to breathe, his lips continued to heat her blood, making their way down the other side of her neck. His hand moved the fabric of her borrowed shift down her shoulder, exposing her skin little by little as his mouth took the time to explore.

One of her hands moved to his head, fingers entangling themselves in his dark locks. The other slid up his shirt, feeling the firm, tight muscles in is back stretch and ripple as he moved ever so slowly down her shoulder and collarbone, his hands deftly and deliberately continuing to undress her. She moaned in impatience, hips shifting with need as warmth pooled beneath her thighs. God, how she wanted him.

His breath was warm on her chest as he slid her shift away from her breasts. "Loki," she moaned.

His hands took the place of his mouth as he returned to kiss her. "Yes?" he replied softly. The deceptively sweet grin on his face told her he was enjoying her struggle to be patient immensely.

"Please…" His hands – oh god his hands. They cupped her breasts teasingly, fingers gently brushing against her hardening nipples.

"Please what?"

"Damn it, Loki." She hooked a leg around his hips and pulled him down to her, rolling to the side to end on top of him. Her shift fell down around her hips; his hands stayed where they were, gripping her more firmly as she moved. "I need you."

There was a dark, unfamiliar look in his eyes as he met hers. "Say that again," he commanded. His voice was soft and gentle, yet no less demanding.

"I need you," she repeated, lifting his shirt off to reveal his taut stomach. His chest rose and fell with each breath; every movement was driving her mad.

"Again." He gripped her hips as she unlaced the front of his pants, keeping eye contact all the while. As she slid the garment down past his hips, he tossed her shift to the corner of the room to join his shirt. Her hips rocked against him, loving the feel of him hard beneath her.

"I need you, Loki," she breathed, leaning over to nip gently at the pulse in his neck, reveling in the slight gasp that escaped his lips unbidden. With a swift movement, he had her on her back again, nearly shaking with the effort of keeping control. "Please…"

He groaned as she wrapped her legs around him. There was one, final tense moment as they looked at each other, both overwhelmed with desire. There was no going back. When at last he entered her, sliding in up to the hilt, she heard him gasp out her name. And the sound made her smile until she fell asleep in his arms, finally complete.


	18. Chapter 18

**No reviews? Lame… *sigh* I haven't been very good at updating lately, though, so I guess I deserve it… I will try to be better… Still, reviews are nice. **

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There was tension in the air – raw and palpable – as Odin stood in gilded armor at the summit of the steps to his throne. The golden room hummed with energy and softly-spoken rumors from the crowd as they waited for the Allfather's purpose. Few had any idea why they had been gathered to the palace. And among those few who knew, even fewer looked upon the event with favorable enthusiasm.

Volstagg shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot at the bottom of the steps, and Thor had to resist the urge to do the same as he stood beside his mother. He always had prided himself on his ability to suppress his nerves. But now he wasn't nervous for himself. He was nervous for his brother.

There was an audible gasp among the crowd as Loki emerged from the double doors at the far end of the room, the Wolf on his arm. Their hands were clasped tightly together for everyone to see as all of Asgard looked on, wondering out loud what the banished prince was doing in the Allfather's halls. It had been different with Thor – he had always been loved by the people and respected for his prowess in battle. When he had been banished, the people had cried for his loss. Yet with his brother, their hearts had lifted in his absence. For many, Loki's reappearance came as an unwelcome surprise – a reminder that the misfit prince was still, and always will be, part of their royal family.

He felt a twinge of both pride and jealousy watching the green-clad man and his companion make their way towards him. He had long wished to bring Jane to the golden halls of his home. Yet it was the Wolf who would tread the historic steps of the first mortal in the realm eternal in centuries. He held no resentment towards the girl or his brother, but he still wished to bring the spunky scientist to Asgard – and still waited to do so even when Loki had brought Cara there so quickly. If he were honest, he supposed it might be better this way. Many of his people still considered mortals to be an inferior race. Cara's presence here would likely be met with no small share of prejudice and perhaps even some degree of hostility. Perhaps the Wolf would help pave the way for Jane. He hoped.

Loki and the Wolf stopped at the base of the steps and knelt together before his father. Last night, she had been the mortal representing Midgard and – in Thor's opinion, wisely – had refused to kneel before authority. Here, she meant to support Loki, and thus went to her knees beside him as gracefully as she could. There was something new between them – in the way they glanced at each other and left their hands clasped together. It was natural. Relaxed. The slightest blush rose to the Wolf's cheeks at his brother's smirk, and Thor understood. His chest swelled with pride for his brother. Loki had long ago given up his youthful promiscuity in boredom. Thor knew he had wanted to be understood and fully accepted – something he was not likely to get from any of the Asgardian women he had kept as company, or even from Sigyn, who kept herself in a blissful state of complete blindness to Loki's faults and flaws. Without that basic acceptance, love had held no charms for him.

Before he had met Jane, Thor had not understood. Now, however, he had fresh eyes on the matter.

As his father tapped his spear on the floor, letting the hall ring with the resulting, resounding boom that contact caused, the Thunderer turned his attention back to the matter at hand, reviewing his part in the ceremony.

"Loki Odinson," the Allfather began. Thor knew his words would be much the same as those spoken to him upon his first return from Midgard. Although, Loki's crimes had been much more severe. "Not long ago you knelt before me in chains, the blood of an innocent people still fresh on your boots. Your actions and malicious intent led to the needless deaths of thousands. You were sentenced to an eternity in the deepest reaches of Midgard – the very realm you sought to conquer – with a great serpent above you – a reminder of the pain you left behind you. Today you kneel before me free of those chains you have worn since then. Your power and freedom has been returned to you. Your sentence has been cut short, and not by mine own hands. What can you say for this?"

The crowd waited expectantly as the sorcerer bowed his head. The Wolf gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Thor wished he could add his own encouragement, but knew he could not. For the next few moments, Loki had to stand on his own, apart from the influence of his family. And Thor had to be the prince of Asgard and heir to the throne rather than the older brother he yearned to be.

When at last the Trickster spoke, it was a soft sound, seemingly coming from the air just beside Thor's ear. His brother was ever the clever one. He hoped the personal touch would soften the hearts of the Asgardians present and win some of the respect and love his brother so craved.

"When you first sent me to Midgard, honored Allfather, I failed to see the wisdom in your judgment." For once in his life, Loki answered plainly, letting simple words fall from his lips in sincerity. "I was angry and resentful and unrepentant for my actions. Yet in the long months since then, I have found companionship in a mortal woman – and through her have gained the temperance and wisdom I had lacked. She has taught me what centuries of life and countless lessons could not – the value of life. I returned to Asgard, not with the intent of restoring myself to your court or seeking your good graces, but to seek a means to save her life which she willingly gave to save my own. You have graciously allowed me to fulfill the reasons for which I have come, and I am deserving of nothing more. I kneel before you today and ask for your forgiveness, Father – knowing full well I can never hope to be worthy of it."

Each word, Thor knew, had been carefully chosen for effect. Odin had forgiven Loki as soon as the news of his son's deeds had reached his ears – even before the Trickster had been brought before him in chains. The sentence had merely been a way for Loki to come to peace with himself.

There was a moment of silence as the Allfather seemed to consider his words before turning to the Wolf. The young woman was dressed simply as the hunter she was – all soft leather and fur. To many, she would appear as the mortals of old had – borderline barbaric. It had, of course, been at her own insistence that she not wear another borrowed gown. She would not deceive the people of Asgard into believing she was anything other than what she was. Yet Loki and Thor had other plans – plans which would come to fruit within a few mere moments. The Thunderer could barely contain his anticipation. It was only the thought of Loki's disappointment that kept him from spoiling the surprise.

"Cara Walker of Midgard. You have been with my son during this transformation. What assurance can you give me and those assembled that this is not another of his deceptions? What have you to say for this man?"

The Wolf rose to her feet to speak, earning gasps of shock and surprise from the crowd, and rested her hand on the Trickster's shoulder. She bit her lower lip for a moment, considering her words carefully. "To a mortal, time and life are precious. We choose our company carefully, and value character above all else. I am a woman of simple words and a simple life. Whatever your decision may be, honored Allfather, I will count Loki as my closest friend. I love him, in my own fashion. He is a good man, and I can find no reason to hold his past actions against him. Everyone makes mistakes, but those mistakes serve no purpose without the opportunity to learn."

The decision, naturally, had been made long before this moment. "With all of Asgard as witness, I hereby pardon Loki Odinson, my own youngest son, and reinstate him to his former position as Prince of Asgard!"

Loki stood with a smile. As the applause died down, Thor moved to stand at his brother's side, blue eyes meeting green with their secret conspiracy. "Father," he called over the noise of the crowd. "I have a boon I would ask of you."

As Odin looked curiously down at him, Thor realized he had forgotten to let the Allfather in on their plan. He could feel the flush of embarrassment rising to his cheeks. He hoped this moment of forgetfulness would not go as badly for his brother as the last one.

"And what is this, my son?"

"Cara Walker has done us all a great service. She has brought my brother, the Prince, back to us from his exile realms away. She has nearly given his life to save his. She has endured captivity and interrogation at the hands of his enemies and refused to betray him. In this, she has done all these things also for Asgard. Above all this, Loki is my brother and I would see him happy – and none make him smile so as this mortal. I ask you, honored Allfather, to look kindly upon her and grant her stay in the Realm Eternal for however long she chooses as an honored guest of both myself and my brother."

A small smile played across the older man's lips as he glanced briefly between them. Thor pointedly ignored the suspicious look the Wolf shot him past Loki.

"There is nothing that should please me more. Cara shall forever be welcome among us. As our alliance with Midgard grows stronger, it is good to have the influence of a Midgardian in Asgard."

It was not as climactic an agreement as Thor or Loki would have liked, but it would have to do. The Thunderer turned to watch the Trickster as he, with a small smirk, allowed a rather unique set of armor to grow over Cara's form as they materialized. Where Asgardians wore gleaming metal, the Wolf was adorned with a polished, gleaming mahogany wood. A long cloak – green and mottled grey – sprouted from her shoulders to swirl about her booted ankles. Polished wood curved around her torso and waist, contrasting against the deep greens and greys of the Asgardian-style tunic beneath. Wooden plates were riveted to the tunic as it covered her thighs, mirroring the silver scale at Loki's hip. Soft grey woolen breeches hugged her legs, feeding into the soft, dark brown leather of her hunting boots. To top it all off, a white wolf pelt rested on her shoulder, secured to the cloak by the gleaming visage of a howling direwolf. The overall effect of the transformation was stunning, and Thor was once again in awe of his brother's magical abilities.

The Wolf touched the new garments with shaking hands, ensuring that they were, in fact, real and not an illusion, despite the small, sparkling points of light the Trickster had added for effect. Thor had the palace tailor working on it for months, hoping that his brother's companion would one day come to Asgard at Loki's side. He had not expected it to be so soon, and he was glad it had been ready in time. All his brother needed to do after that was conjure it from the work room.

Loki took his stunned lover's hand in his, murmuring something in her ear Thor couldn't quite make out. She smiled nervously as the Trickster began leading her down the central aisle and back towards the double doors. Halting, hesitant applause from the crowd followed them. Thor frowned at the lack of enthusiasm from his people and took it upon himself to shout from the base of the steps. "Asgard welcomes back its prince!" He clapped his hands together to jumpstart the applause. At last, the golden doors shut behind the pair – and Thor knew they still had a long way to go before the Nine Realms would believe his brother redeemed.


	19. Chapter 19

It was several weeks before Cara and her immortal companions had the time or opportunity to disappear into the woods for their "family outing." Odin and Thor found themselves trying to clean up the mess left by the Asgardians' abrupt departure from Midgard – needless to say, Director Fury was less than pleased with the god of Thunder on several different levels and not nearly as willing to forgive Loki for his past. The Trickster, himself, kept boredom at bay by trying to re-establish a life in the Realm Eternal. After his first few ventures into the city – during which the vast majority of the populous refused to talk to him or acknowledge his presence – he took to carting Cara around with him, hoping to be more successful with more interesting company.

While the hunter appreciated the opportunity to see the city, she found being surrounded by people – especially people who looked at her like she might easily be crushed under the heel of their boots – all the time rather disconcerting. And so, she began trying to find excuses to occasionally stay inside the palace walls. Those excuses were conveniently provided by the Lady Sif, who had decided Cara needed to learn more useful skills than woodland survival. Unfortunately, those convenient excuses seemed to come with rather inconvenient bruises and sore muscles from involuntary hand-to-hand combat training, so Cara found herself out among the throngs of gods once again. Occasionally, Thor found time to join them – which greatly reduced the number of glares and muttered insults they received as well as reducing the looming threats of projectile rotting vegetables. But mostly they were on their own, trying to find things they could help with in the streets and shops and talking with anyone who was graceful or curious enough to give them attention.

As Cara daily observed her lover trying his best to win the hearts of his people, she found her respect for him growing exponentially. No task was too small or too big to be worth his attention – although she could often see him struggling with his pride. And everything he did, he did with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes – and Cara usually ended up finding out why he was laughing moments too late. Even tasks as simple and mundane as sweeping a floor or mucking out the palace stables became little adventures and stories to be told later in the day. They often returned to the palace covered in dirt (helping a widow with her garden) or straw (spending time with Sliepnir) or sopping wet (an unfortunate incident in which Loki pushed Cara into a nearby fountain because "it seemed like a good idea at the time"). And in spite of – or perhaps because of – the small tricks he would play as he worked, Cara began to see more smiles on the streets every day, though many still regarded them with no small disdain.

She once asked him why he thought his efforts would help him win their loyalty. He had merely grinned down at her and kissed her on the cheek, replying, "Well, being nice worked with you, didn't it? Figured it was worth a try."

Once every week, he would find something for them to do alone for the day. They walked down to the jagged end of the Bifrost and watched for a while as the Rainbow Bridge slowly worked to repair itself. She had been amazed at the colors not only in the bridge itself – which seemed to shift with her every movement as if it knew she was there and were pleased to see her – but also in the sky where the clouds drifted out of the great blue to meet the stars. They went down to the water together one day, walking past the small fisheries and down to the smoother areas of the beach. The sand there was glittering and golden, as was the rest of the city behind them. She had first been afraid to enter the sea, the memory of waters closing in over her head perhaps too recent. But he had held her close to him and helped her conquer the newfound fear of drowning in the waves. They had spent a day in the training yard – him showing her to throw knives and her showing him the best way to shoot a bow. Neither seemed to take well to the other's weapon of choice, but they each seemed to enjoy the experience well enough. And every night, when the rest of the universe fell asleep, they explored each other, forcing Heimdall to give them much needed privacy.

When the day finally came for Thor to retrieve Jane from Midgard for their little excursion, Cara found her nerves suddenly catching up with her. She hadn't had much time to be anxious over meeting Thor's counterpart – along with spending extended periods of time with the rest of Loki's prestigious family. Yet as the Thunderer disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke, she felt that small semblance of fear clench in her gut.

As she dressed herself in her old, worn clothes in Loki's chambers, she glanced over at her god of Mischief, who already had his long nose stuck in a book. It seemed like he was always reading whenever he had a spare moment to himself. She'd tried picking up a few to start herself, once. But many of the old tomes were in languages she didn't know or required some degree of prior knowledge on subjects she'd never heard of. Loki had teasingly suggested at the time that he might have a picture book from his childhood somewhere on the shelves that might be more to her liking.

Not having anything to do was only increasing her anxiety, so she padded over to where Loki sat and crawled up into his lap when he spread his arms to her, never once taking his gaze from the page he was on.

"You're nervous," he stated simply, one arm wrapping around her waist as she glanced at the strange runes on the page.

"How could you tell?"

"Do I really need to answer that question?"

"One of these days you're going to be wrong. And then I'm going to rub your nose in it for a while."

"Sounds like an invitation," he smirked, glancing down at her for a moment. God, she loved that smirk. "So what's bothering you, dearest?"

"Jane."

"Why? Don't think you'll measure up?"

She stuck her tongue out at him before replying. "No, I suppose not. I just…" She struggled to find the right words. "I guess I'm worried that we won't get along."

Those blue-green eyes met hers incredulously. "You really can't be serious."

"What?" she jumped to her own defense. "I mean, I don't want to be the cause of another fight between you and Thor. I want this to be a way for the two of you to get closer again, not another excuse for you to grow apart."

He sighed and put the book aside, turning his full attention to her. "If my brother and I find ourselves at odds again, it will not be because of you and Jane. My relationship with my family is _healing_, not healed. Better for us to disagree over small things than battle over large ones. And if you're concerned that you won't bond immediately, you needn't worry. My mother has a talent for creating rather unique friendships between people. If all else fails, the two of you will be able to listen to her talk about Thor and I as children." He said that last part with a slight wince, as if those stories might prove to be ammunition for future jibes.

She considered that for a moment. "I don't want to embarrass you, either."

"You could neglect to wear an article of clothing should you so desire. It seems to have worked with the other members of my family."

She rolled her eyes. "You're so helpful."

"I know," he teased. "Besides, I don't think you could possibly embarrass me at this point."

Before the conversation could go any further, a guard stepped through the doorway to announce Thor's reappearance and they knew it was time to depart. The Thunderer had decided they'd meet in the stables as this was Jane's first venture beyond Midgard and being around familiar creatures might ease the shock of transition a bit. Cara had plenty of time to coax her tense muscles to relax and take deep breaths in an attempt to calm her nerves. It worked surprisingly well, as did the simple, comforting contact of having Loki's large hand over hers. By the time they reached the steps leading out of Gladsheim, she felt much more like herself – calm, confident, and with strong enough wits to keep up with the god of Mischief at her side. She found herself smiling as she walked.

As they rounded the corner and crossed the hay-covered threshold to the stables, Cara smiled all the wider to see the large blonde bear and his lover standing in front of Sliepnir's rather lavish stall. The massive black stallion had his nose hung over the rail in curiosity as a small, slim hand gently stroked the shining black coat between his gleaming green eyes. As the horse caught sight of Loki, he neighed in delight and tossed his head gently, much to the surprise of the small brown-eyed woman in blue plaid standing in front of him.

As Jane turned to face them, Cara felt a momentary pang of jealousy. The woman was maybe a few inches taller than her with flowing brown tresses and a sparkling smile. Perfectly proportioned, she had curves in every place a woman should have curves in. If ever there was a mortal fit for a god, she was it. The hunter couldn't help but feel somewhat inadequate with her cropped, messy red locks and hard, lean body. She felt nearly the polar opposite of the doe-eyed intellectual, but supposed it was fitting. After all, the men they'd chosen were on opposite ends of the spectrum as well.

"Brother!" Thor greeted them, beaming. "Little Wolf! This," he placed his hand comfortingly on the small of the woman's back, making her blush, "is my Jane."

The woman extended her hand cautiously to Loki, a tumult of thoughts rushing just behind her eyes. "Thor's told me so much about you, Loki."

The Trickster smiled. "In that case, I sincerely hope first impressions go in my favor and I can at least pretend to be as good a man as my brother wants me to be."

A trace of doubt remained in Jane's smile as she turned her attention to Cara. "And you're Little Wolf?"

Cara shot a half-hearted glare at Thor as she shook the scientist's hand. "If that nickname catches on, I will never forgive your boyfriend." The Thunderer merely grinned in reply, indicating he had every intention of introducing her the same way in future scenarios. "I'm Cara Walker. Nice to meet you."

"I've really been looking forward to getting to spend some time with you. Thor hasn't been particularly descriptive when I've asked him about you."

"Hopefully I won't be as disappointing as Loki's sure to be." She squeaked in surprise at the pinch to her side that earned her, and the four of them shared a short laugh before the Allfather and his wife stepped through the stable door.

Cara could hardly believe what was before her eyes. Odin – the wise, all powerful ruler of the universe; protector of the Nine Realms and their outlying systems; the god who stepped out of legends and surpassed them – had donned a simple white shirt and fine leather boots for the occasion. He held the golden spear Gugnir in one large calloused hand and his wife's slim hand at the crook of his other elbow. Frigga was stunning in a light blue tunic accented with silver embroidery, her long chestnut hair pulled into a loose braid running over one shoulder. If it wasn't strange enough to see them so casual, they had topped off the effect by wearing Midgardian _jeans._ Seeing them so, well, _normal_ looking really started to put Cara's rather odd lot in life into perspective.

Glancing over at Jane, Cara could see her struggling with deciding what to do. He knees wobbled, as if pushing her into a curtsy, but her fingers in her right hand clenched up, wanting to extend it to the Allfather just as she had to Cara and Loki. Frigga – as Frigga was apt to do – made the decision for her quickly, sweeping in to catch her up in an embrace.

"Jane," her smooth, almost absurdly maternal voice drifted gently through the warm air of the stables. "It is good to finally see you in person. Welcome to Asgard."

The woman beamed as some of the tension and indecision left her, and she lightly returned the embrace. "Ummm… Thank you… Ma'am."

"Don't be formal, dear. You're part of the family," Frigga chided gently as she pulled away to let her husband have a turn.

Jane took a deep breath before facing the Allfather completely. She stepped forward with a welcoming smile and extended her hand.

In that moment, Cara decided she probably wouldn't have any trouble getting along with Thor's girlfriend. And she was almost proud of her lover's father for taking the gesture in stride.

Odin took her slim hand in both of his, having rested Gugnir against the wall momentarily, and smiled warmly. "Jane." He said simply.

"Allfather," she replied.

"Odin," came the gentle correction. "Frigga will be cross if we have you call me by titles while we're among friends."

Cara felt almost an observer to the scene until Loki slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side, reminding her that she was as much a part of the family as Jane.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey y'all **** In response to a review I received, yes the mortal vs immortal issue **_**will**_** be resolved, although I'm considering saving that for the sequel that is forming in my mind. Some of the things I'll be putting in the next few chapters will be setup for the next one as well as building up this plot. **

**Things should start to heat up a little in the next few chapters. Well, a lot, not a little. And they should be a little longer for ya **

**Thank you all for reading and for reviewing! I really appreciate the feedback. It helps me get better as a writer and makes sure I don't forget to tie up any ends! Thank you! Enjoy ;D**

**Ѡ**

Cara's feet found easy purchase on the soft forest floor as she moved silently through the trees. The silver-green leaves brushed against her clothes and face as her eyes scanned the ground for the tracks Odin had taught her to find. The creature they'd been hunting – whose name she'd forgotten – was large and heavy. Its foot was a cloven hoof, much like that of a pig or cow, but with two notches cut out of the toe instead of only one. That trait seemed to result in a spike at the tip of its foot, making the animal a fearsome kicker and digger in addition to any other defensive attributes it had. The Allfather, stalking quietly perhaps twenty feet away, carried a spear grasped lightly in his hands. Cara found herself wondering if her bow would be enough.

Loki trailed along behind her and to her right. He was still learning how to handle himself in the woods, but learning quickly. Already, he was beginning to pick out signs of their prey on the ground and low brush. Of course, it helped that he didn't need to worry about twigs and leaves snapping beneath him. He had rather smugly muffled the sound of his feet to near silence. Cara and Odin – having each spent months learning to move quietly under their own power – had both decided it was cheating, but hadn't complained further than that. He'd only laughed at them. At least he wouldn't scare away the wildlife like his brother would have. Although Thor was good company, he was _loud_, and none of them had objected to his desire to spend the day close to camp teaching Jane – and, to a lesser degree, his mother – to fish in a nearby lake.

Odin moved again off to her left, concealed nearly as well as her in the leaves. Surprisingly enough, she found herself unintimidated by hunting with the Allfather. He might be the supreme ruler of the universe, but Cara was in her element. A slow, steady stream of adrenaline coursed through her veins with the thrill of the hunt. Being in the trees was glorious freedom – freedom she had sorely missed in past weeks. It was strange to think the last time she had been truly outside, her lover had still been a prisoner on Midgard. That time seemed already a lifetime away. It hadn't truly been that long ago – perhaps two months or so. Yet everything had changed for her, and although she missed that life, she knew there was no going back. In many ways, that simple fact was oddly exhilarating.

It seemed to her that Alfheim had drifted straight out of a Tolkein novel. From the surreal, glittering nature of the forest around her even to the inhabitants they had come across, this world was both completely alien and hauntingly familiar to her – a sentiment Jane had seemed to appreciate. Although the Asgardians professed that Alfheim was home only to the race of Light Elves – or Ljósálfar, as they called themselves – Cara couldn't help but half expect a hobbit or a dwarf to appear suddenly from behind a tree.

The dual suns were beginning to sink towards the horizon when she slowed to a stop as Odin raised his fist in the air near his head, signaling for a halt. A shiver of anticipation raced down her spine as she strained her ears to listen, still not entirely sure what she was listening for. Though she hadn't seen any fresh tracks other than whatever creature they were hunting, her encounter with the elf who had met them on the way to Odin's favorite hunting ground ran through her mind. For the first time, Cara had fully understood what Tolkein had meant when he'd described elves as being "fair." He had been tall and willowy with lean, graceful limbs shifting slowly as if the gently breeze was enough to stir him. Fair hair, long and silvery blonde. Fair skin. Fair blue, sparkling eyes. And frighteningly solemn. His smooth, liquid silver voice had delivered a brief greeting and a single warning. "Beware the direwolves, Allfather. They grow restless."

Her companions had paid the elf's words little heed. Cara wasn't sure what the differences between a direwolf and a regular one, but, being conspicuously mortal – and having encountered enough wolves in the past to be fairly aware of the dangers involved – she was significantly less confident in her safety than the Allfather and his divine family members.

A low, snorting sound reached her ears and she instinctively tightened her hand around the grip of her bow. The string settled into the joints in her fingers, the fletching of the arrow just barely brushing her skin. The smooth, solid wood pressing into her palm had a calming effect, and she exhaled slowly, focusing fully on what was in front of her. A shape slowly came into focus in the trees.

The animal was surprisingly large – nearly the size of a moose, and much closer to the ground. Round around the middle, the six stout legs did, indeed, end in a razor-sharp claw sprouting from the middle section of each hoof. The fur, though, was what had made the creature so difficult for Cara to see. It stuck up in tufts, entirely uneven. The brown-colored coat was dappled severely with grey and green. The overall effect was near-invisibility in the trees. No wonder the Allfather enjoyed this hunt – the only possible way to find it was by its tracks. What gave her the most pause, however, was the four, sharp, curving horns and three white tusks sprouting from its largely hog-like face.

She did a short evaluation. Six powerful legs meant speed, but difficulty changing direction. Horns and tusks meant it was most likely to charge threats head-on and disappear into the leaves behind as it turned. Large ears for hearing, but they were forward-facing.

She glanced at Odin, and the man nodded. Back at Loki, who nodded as well. Silently, Cara drew the arrow back, letting the feather brush the corner of her mouth and sighting down the slim, wooden shaft. She breathed. The wood of the bow creaked softly. A small array of smaller game hung heavy from her belt – an unfamiliar weight. She adjusted carefully, centering herself as much as possible. Focus.

The arrow sped forward as the string snapped against the brace on her arm. She smiled, but too soon. At the last possible moment – so close Cara had a hard time believing what had happened – it turned to look in her direction. The steel tip of the arrow glanced across the snout before bouncing off into the trees, leaving a large, bloody gash in its wake.

Cara cursed as the creature roared in outrage. It charged. She wanted to move – wanted to get away. Her brain shouted at her – move, dammit! Move now! But her body wouldn't listen. Her feet remained rooted to the ground as she faced the onrushing horror that was likely to pummel her and tear her to bloody shreds.

A large, lean hand grabbed her leather-clad shoulder and pulled hard to the side, seconds before she would have been skewered. She crashed to the ground, Loki rolling on top of her. His green eyes alight with some emotion Cara's brain was too sluggish to recognize. His mouth moved, but she couldn't hear it. She couldn't understand why. His long fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. A slow warmth drifted into her from that contact as she rushed back to awareness.

"Climb. Now," he ordered, gravely serious, nearly furious. His image dissipated above her and she didn't hesitate in moving to her feet. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, crouching low before the turning animal. Move.

She slung her bow across her back and sprang onto the nearest branch, swinging herself upwards to the next. Her booted feet gripped the copper bark surprisingly well and she moved lightly across the branch so she crouched over the emerging battle on the ground. She notched another arrow, angry with herself for missing and then for freezing.

Loki flung a knife into the thick hide as it raced through another illusion. The gleaming metal stuck and drew blood, but seemed to do little other than enrage the beast further. Odin emerged with his spear, positioning himself as it turned again to make a third pass. He dug his feet into the ground and planted the spear firmly at an angle. Hopefully, the dull gleam of the razored spear would be invisible to the running animal. Loki continued to throw knives, each projectile gleaming with an odd green light as he used magic to assist his aim and power. Cara drew the arrow back again, sighting carefully should the Allfather miss his mark. A large, brown eye flecked with green – pupils contracted almost to nothingness – loomed in her vision. She knew she could not miss – would not miss.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed a second beast behind Odin. In the chaos of the first creature, they hadn't noticed the second. It was charging.

Quickly, she sprang up and leaped to another tree branch, gaining a better angle. She drew back, realizing as she did so she wouldn't get the clear shot to its eye. Cursing, she dropped the bow, drawing the long knife she used to clean her kills. She didn't think. Only acted. Without a second's hesitation, she dropped down to the second beast's back, grabbing hold of one of the horns to keep herself steady as she swung her full weight into her knife arm. The blade lodged itself firmly into the creature's eye even as Cara was flung from its back several feet into the woods. She hit a tree, hard, her head cracking against the copper bark and her eyes losing sight for a few moments.

She eventually became aware of a pair of worried and angry green eyes staring into hers, his fingers firmly on her chin and forcing her back to consciousness. Her head throbbed.

"Ow," she groaned, turning away slightly as she thought she might be sick. The adrenaline that had driven her during their battle had fled her veins, leaving her to feel every mistake she'd made.

"'Ow' is right, you silly girl. Didn't I tell you not to do things like that?"

"Stop shouting, babe. It hurts."

His voice rose in anger as he stood up. "Do you absolutely have to remind me of how fragile you are every time we leave Asgard? Is it really absolutely necessary?"

"Huh?"

He glared, as if the source of his frustration should be obvious. It very well might have been, had she been in full possession of her mental faculties. As it was, however, the headache raging at the base of her skull was preventing most cognitive thought. She winced as she tried to sit up from her crumpled position on the ground.

"It was a fine kill." Odin's quiet, confident voice came from somewhere off to the left where she assumed she'd killed the second animal.

Loki turned his gaze briefly to his father, not cooling off in the least. "Mortals do not often survive being thrown through trees."

"I was just trying to help," she murmured. "I didn't think you guys saw the second one."

"We do not need 'help.' If we had been caught by one of those horns, the most we would have gotten was a few broken ribs. You would have been skewered through."

Cara suddenly felt rather ashamed of herself, if perhaps a little angry at being chastened. If she'd stopped to think, she would have realized. She was merely mortal in the company of gods. She would do well to remember she would never be able to fully keep up. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, turning her gaze to the dark earth beneath her.

His warm fingers brushed her hair from her face as he knelt beside her again. He sighed heavily. "Are you alright?" he asked, almost apologetically gently. She knew he hadn't meant to be angry.

She nodded as he probed the back of her head where she'd hit the tree. A cool, soothing sensation drifted from his hand and into her skull, easing her throbbing head and bringing her fully back to the world. The coppery smell of blood and earth filled her nose.

It was fully dusk now, as Loki helped her to stand. The chill air poured into her lungs as she breathed deeply, steadying her shaking limbs. They didn't have the time to clean the huge animals now, so the Trickster dumped them into the nothingness he always carried around with him. He'd once tried to explain to Cara where things went when he made them disappear. To her, though, it would always seem as if the air simply swallowed them up.

She gathered her bow and her knife from Odin, who smiled gently and patted her on the shoulder. She apologized to him, too, still feeling somewhat humbled by Loki's speech.

"He worries for you. Take it as a compliment."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she simply absorbed it and moved on, surveying the mess they'd made in the wood and trying to think of something else to do. Before long, it was time to head back – Loki assuring them he would light the way when it grew too dark.

As the breeze shifted, the scent of charred earth drifted into Cara's nose. Odin stopped midstride.

"Wait." At the brief command, both Cara and the Trickster tried to let their senses expand to find what was wrong. The Allfather silently headed off in the opposite direction to where they'd been headed, bidding them both follow with a wave of his calloused hand.

They didn't have far to walk before they found the source of Odin's disquiet. Before them lay a blackened clearing at the base of a rock outcrop. A small cave entrance loomed from the stone wall – dark and ominous in the fading light. The ground was littered with charred wood and bones. But the most disturbing aspect of the scene was the bodies scattered across the dirt. Many were burned beyond recognition, but the ones closer to the mouth of the den remained whole, having suffocated as the flames ran out of things to consume. They were wolves, to be sure. Yet they were far too large – and far too perfect, despite the grotesque angles and positions they had found in death. The creatures were large and bloodied, the smallest lying in a mound nearly as large as Cara, herself. The fur was thick and matted, ranging in color from snow white to a copper brown to inky black.

For a moment, Cara strained her senses, searching for any sign of immediate danger. The blood hung stale on the air; the smoke had long since dissipated. Whatever had killed these creatures had fled after the deed was done. She was about to continue forward when a small, heart wrenching wail drifted from the mouth of the den. She paused for a moment before skirting the edge of the tree line towards the rock face. As her booted foot stepped from the soft copper dirt and onto the blackened ashes, Loki caught her shoulder. He frowned in silent warning, his green gaze urging her to stay and let him go first – or perhaps not to go at all. She knew she should heed his instincts – especially after her latest mishap – but she was fully in the grip of her own. If he wanted her safe he could come with her. The sound called her forward – forward she would go. Giving the Trickster a small, reassuring smile, she padded into the wolves' den, ducking her head and allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness even as Loki conjured a ball of soft, green light to illuminate the cave.

The walls were covered in blood, and the ground was muddy with it. The stench nearly made her gag, forcing her to pull her shirt up over her nose before she could continue. Her arms prickled with an unnatural chill despite her warm jacket. She couldn't tell why she felt such an intense sense of danger here when there was none outside, but she tried to move beyond her flight instinct. The sound called her again. The fires had never made it inside the den. These wolves had been slaughtered by something else. In the dim light she could make out the wounds on the corpses. Large slashes marred their throats. Swords perhaps? No. The blades were curved.

Her stomach turned briefly. It had been a massacre. And she could come to no insights as to motive.

She tightened her grip on her bow momentarily as she caught a slight movement out of the corner of her eye. Breathing as deeply as she could to calm herself, she moved towards the disturbance. She found herself stunned to a moment of inaction at the scene that greeted her. A small – unbelievably small, considering the size of the grown direwolves she had seen – shadow of a wolf pup was nudging and licking one of its fallen fellows. It had been the sound of its cries that had called her. She found it hard to believe that such a heartbreaking display of emotional agony could be coming from the small creature before her. It was almost too… human.

Cara shivered involuntarily as she knelt down slowly to gather the lone survivor of the tragedy into her arms. The pup's fur was wet and sticky with blood and dirt, and it seemed torn between trying to return to its dead parent and finding comfort in the first living contact it had had in perhaps days. It gave one last mournful wail before crying into Cara's chest, burying its face in the folds of her jacket even as the hunter tried to juggle the creature and her bow at the same time.

She found both Odin and Loki waiting for her where the sunlight began and handed her weapon to her confused lover as she searched for words to explain. How could she possibly explain? What could she possibly say?

"He's small – for a direwolf." Odin's calm voice – an odd mix of amusement and disquiet – stirred her from her silence. She met his gaze with uncertainty, and saw the briefest glimpse of what she thought was a haunting memory. Loki had been small for a frost giant.

"I think he's the only one left." Her now-free hand stroked the matted fur in what she hoped was a comforting gesture for the creature.

"Somehow I get the feeling you're going to ask if you can keep it." Loki sighed in resignation at the hopeful and guilty expression he received in return. "Midgardians and their need to collect things. You'd think a Norse god would be enough – but no, you have to go find a direwolf to add to it. Are you never satisfied, woman?"

She could tell he was teasing – mostly. The thought of a large, cunning predator roaming the streets of Asgard as a pet was likely not the most ideal of situations. The serious, frightened look in the elf's eye as he'd delivered his warning flashed through her mind. She could imagine the small fear she saw haunting the eyes of the gods before her had something to do with that mental image.

If Odin himself was afraid – however small the fear – of direwolves, what had been bold enough to attack them in their own territory? And what had been strong enough to walk away – seemingly without any casualties of their own? She shivered again at the thought, the reaction having nothing to do with the evening chill on the air.

"What did this?" she asked quietly.

"The Light Elves don't use so much fire. And they wouldn't slaughter the direwolves – it disrupts their precious balance with nature." Loki's eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"No. This was the fire Demons."

It didn't mean much to Cara, but Loki's mouth dropped open slightly before he hardened his resolve. "The fire Demons were destroyed when you defeated Surtur," he argued.

"Surtur was not destroyed. Perhaps…" His blue eye wandered to the carnage around him as his thought trailed off. "There are too many questions here. Not enough answers. I will consult the Norns when we return."

Cara kept her opinion on asking the Norns for advice to herself. Who was she to tell the king of the gods that the queen of the fates gave her a bad feeling? Feeling particularly aware of her own mortality, she drew closer to her lover, who put an arm around her and briefly kissed the top of her head. The wolf cradled in her arms raised his head briefly to look up at her, then began to lick the spots of blood and dirt from her hand. She ignored her growing sense of unease as she let Loki lead her back through the woods to their camp. He kept her close by his side the whole way.


	21. Chapter 21

Frigga's Sight was fading. It was both odd and frightening to look into what might be and see only a fog where only a month ago it had been clear as day – clearer than normal, in fact. Not that she'd liked everything she'd Seen. Now, however, the only inkling of foresight she had left came in the form of gut feelings and vague flashes of images she didn't understand.

She wondered if it had anything to do with…

Her hand unconsciously travelled to her stomach as she frowned. She couldn't think of a reason why that would change her Sight. it hadn't with Thor… This child would be different, though. She had Looked before her Sight had gone. He was all smiles, chestnut hair and blue eyes. He would love music and dancing and giving hugs. Entirely innocent.

She had yet to tell anyone – including Odin. The shock of finding herself with child, old as she was, still ran through her. Though, after two months she supposed it might be time to share the news. But she worried. She knew Thor would be ecstatic and Odin would have a father's pride. Her younger son, however, was still the uncertainty. He always had been, she supposed. Once, she had known him so well as to be able to predict, if not know for certain, how he would react. But he had changed so much since then. And the things she had Seen frightened her – though she knew nothing was set entirely in stone. Death had swept behind him like a cloak, Ragnarok trailing destruction in his wake. The Wolf, the Serpent, and the Dead One held his hands as children, all covered in blood from head to toe. And all had come to pass for imagined slight borne of being an outsider to his own family. Because he felt somehow a lesser being by nature of his birth. How deep had he smothered those feelings – that resentment? She doubted it was truly gone, though she could hope. How would he react to the news of a new, true-born brother so soon after he conquered the madness that had so nearly consumed him? Would it push him back over the edge? Back on the path towards the End of Days?

The suns had gone down perhaps an hour past and Frigga sat beside the happily crackling fire, breathing in the savory scent of fresh-caught fish cooking near the flames. She could not bear to dwell on those dark thoughts. Thor and Jane were still beside the lake, talking and gazing up at the stars that must still seem so strange to the girl. She wished the young scientist could stay in Asgard for a time, yet knew it would likely be a while before such a thing was possible. The laws surrounding the presence of mortals in the realm of the gods were strict and longstanding and severely out of date. Her sons had found a loophole allowing Cara to stay without repercussions, but that strategy could work only once, she knew. And the Allfather – in his infinite, infuriating, responsibility – would now allow Jane a public visit to Asgard until he could gracefully change the law. He hoped Cara would pave the way towards Asgardians accepting mortal kind as equal rather than subservient. _She_ hoped it wouldn't accidentally increase the animosity in an already-strained relationship between her sons.

Her gaze snapped up to the treeline behind their large tents as she heard a rustle in the leaves. As her husband emerged – his face lined with thought and concern – followed by Loki and Cara, Frigga's fingers uncurled from around the long dagger she customarily kept in her boot. She stood up from the ground with a smile and went to embrace the old man.

"How was the hunt?"

"Two Ras-Alda. The girl got the second one, herself."

"The second one almost got the girl, _itself_," Loki grumbled in correction, glaring half-heartedly at the woman in question.

Thor and Jane suddenly emerged from the trees at the opposite end of camp. Naturally, the news of the hunt was repeated, and Frigga took a brief moment to speculate on what could have worried the Allfather.

"What's that?" Jane's sharp brown eyes were curiously fixed on something dark and furry in Cara's arms – something Frigga had failed to notice. Oh how she missed her Sight. The small, ark form squirmed briefly in the hunter's arms as a small, pink tongue stretched out in a yawn.

"It's a direwolf, dear," the Queen replied quietly. In her mind, she Saw the Great Wolf chained and immobile under the Asgardian sun, surrounded by his enemies. Blood ran freely from his mouth as his bloodshot eyes burned with rage. Her grandson. She forced a smile for the creature. "Have you given him a name yet?" There was hope. _Just choose a different name!_

The girl's face contorted for a moment in intense thought. "Fenrir," she decided. A shiver of dread ran down the older woman's spine and she glanced up at her husband, seeing her own unease written on his face. Once it had been said, it could not be unsaid. Fenrir. The signs of Ragnarok were upon them – and so soon! She had hoped her sons would have more time now that they were slowly coming to peace.

She could see her frown was drawing too much attention to her thoughts, so she replaced her smile as well as she could muster. "Well, we seem to be adding to the family wherever we go! Why don't you and Jane clean him up a bit dear." She needed to get Odin alone. They must talk.

"Loki," Thor smiled, eyes both troubled and suspicious over his parents' behavior. Her younger son's face was creased with doubt. She would not be able to hide this from them for long, and there was much to explain – much she had Seen and wished she could unsee. "You must tell me of the hunt. It seems a battle I should have been sorry to miss – had I not spent the afternoon in such pleasant company." He flashed jane a wink and she laughed. Something about that bright sound abruptly lifted the dark cloud that had seemed to settle over the camp, and Frigga took a deep breath. Now was not the time for despair. It was the time for strategy.

**Ѡ**

Cara sighed as she and Jane waited for water to warm over the fire. Fenrir was anxious to be near the warmth, but the hunter could tell he was frightened by the flames. It wasn't particularly hard to figure out why. She tried to distract him by rolling him around in the dirt as he chewed playfully at her fingers. He licked her apologetically when he once bit down hard enough to draw blood. With a small laugh, she held him out in front of her as he wagged his tail happily.

"I find you in a cave covered in blood, save you, and you snap at me when I try and give you a bath. Somehow I get the feeling you're going to take after Loki."

The Trickster, himself, chuckled as he sat down beside her with a smile. "Well, I hope so. It would be positively shameful for a direwolf to be as small as you, my dear."

"Says the pocket-sized frost giant."

Jane laughed.

"That's still some – as you Midgardians say – 'low-hanging fruit?'"

"Well _someone_ neglected to bring the stepstool."

"If it would make you feel better…" With a self-satisfied grin, he conjured the image of a small ladder off to his right, gesturing dramatically at its appearance.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're so clever."

Fenrir let out a small puppy bark even as Loki planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. She tousled the pup's muddy fur and smiled. "You're far too young to be already agreeing with him on everything."

The direwolf's ice-blue eyes seemed only to laugh in response. The amount of comprehension in those eyes was frightening. Cara got the distinct impression she'd gotten herself into something perhaps more complicated than adopting a new pet.

"Nonsense," came the inevitable smooth reply. The trickster slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "If more people agreed with me, the Realms would have far fewer problems."

Jane barked out a laugh, calling his bluff. After a few moments, she smiled more gently. "You've probably solidified your nickname, you know." The scientist reached out to scratch behind Fenrir's ears.

Cara sighed in resignation. "Apparently Thor is more insightful than I give him credit for."

The thunder god in question smiled and shrugged as he sat down beside the doe-eyed scientist. "It could stand a moment's revision."

"And how would you amend it dear brother?" Loki was almost leaning forward in anticipation, curiosity shining in those green eyes.

Cara dipped her finger into the warm water to judge the temperature before unceremoniously dunking Fenrir in. An impressive amount of blood and dirt and loose fur drifted immediately away from the pup, who seemed to be glaring up at her in all his sopping-wet glory. She chuckled for a brief moment before Thor's response brought her up short.

"Wolf Mother."

"'Mother?'"

"Direwolves are frightful intelligent," he shrugged. "That pup will like be more a child than a pet."

"Oh dear," she murmured. It seemed she was collecting children recently, and she wasn't entirely sure she was well-suited for it – not to mention she hadn't really noticed it happening before it was too late. Hela sure acted like she was somewhat of a total failure as a parent, and that didn't give her much confidence in her qualifications for adoption. And she'd rather been enjoying her alone time with Loki lately. They'd only been "dating" for maybe a little over a month now. She didn't really have any serious qualms about spending the rest of her brief lifetime with him – so far, at least – but it seemed a lot to early to bringing children into it. Things had moved fast, but not _that_ fast. She shot a glare at the amused Trickster beside her. At least he wasn't upset about effectively being made a father without so much as a nod of agreement. Then again, he was several hundred years more mature – scratch that, just several hundred years _older_ – than she was. He'd had plenty of bachelor time, and he'd have plenty of it again after she died and the kids grew up. "You could have warned me, you know."

"I doubt it would have made much of an impact on you. And far be it from me to deny you anything." That infuriating, teasing, god-awfully attractive smirk of his played across his face as his eyes danced.

She looked over at Jane, who was wearing a similar expression to Thor's amused-yet-sympathetic gaze. "I don't suppose you have any idea what to give an Asgardian prince for Father's Day, do you?"

**Ѡ**

Karnilla smiled to herself as she turned from the scrying glass. The board was set, the game would soon begin. The warnings and whispers of the End of Days had been spoken – though only few had listened. But she had to play her pieces quickly. She knew the moves to make. The Mother of Wolves must not have opportunity to react – to change the game. And all would then be well.

"I hope you're ready, mortal," she murmured to herself. And she meant it. It was no fun to play against a powerless opponent. And the Norn Queen always played to win.


	22. Chapter 22

**Okay, guys. I know it's been a while – a lot longer than reasonable, I know. But hopefully this next bit will make up for it a little ;).**

**Anyway, we should be reaching a massive conflict within the next chapter – which is already in the works – so hopefully the updates will be a lot a lot a lot faster from here 'till the end. And I already have the sequel working in my head. Enjoy. **

**Ѡ**

"Loki?"

The trickster smiled as he kissed her neck, reveling in the feel of her warm skin and the small sounds escaping her throat as he stood behind her, holding her firmly to him. She was so small – so fragile. Painfully mortal. Only days ago he had knelt over her crumpled form as she'd slumped against a tree, terrified that she would not open her eyes. Relief and fury warred within him, even as he found himself ashamed that he'd brought tears to her eyes. It was frustrating to have to be so careful with her – so aware that she could break beneath him if he pushed just a little bit too hard. Frustrating and exhilarating. Exhilarating to have that small degree of power over her. Exhilarating to be trusted with that power. Exhilarating even to give it up. And it excited her nearly as much as it excited him – even when he sometimes forgot and became just a bit more forceful. Yet he still couldn't deny how gratifying it was to watch her tremble in anticipation at his lightest, most gentle touch.

"Yes?" It was barely a whisper, but he knew she heard him plain as day. With his lips so close to her ear, he knew she could hear every slight change in his breath – every half-formed thought that caught in his throat. And it was driving her wild – ever closer to losing any and all semblance of control she had over herself. He let his hand slide up from her hips to trace the line where wood met cloth in her armor along one breast. "Something you wanted, darling?"

"Loki…. wait."

He grinned, knowing she was perilously close to forgetting whatever bothered thought that had taken root in her mind. And she said _he_ talked too much. "Are you sure?" He gently scraped his teeth along the bottom of her ear, more than pleased by the involuntary shiver she gave in response.

She groaned his name as she spun around in his grasp to face him. Her half-stern, lust-filled blue gaze bored into his playful green one. He knew just by a glance at that slight, unconscious pout she was about to get whatever she wanted. He smirked knowingly at the pulse still racing at her neck.

And then he was going to get what _he_ wanted.

"I wanted to ask you something."

"I take it can't wait?"

"Well… Kinda."

He gave a dramatically resigned sigh before taking a seat at the edge of the bed and pulling her down into his lap. "What is it, love?"

She bit her lower lip in sudden uncertainty before she answered. "I want to see you."

"What in the Nine Realms are you talking about?" She saw him every day. More than every day. Unless she wanted to see…

"No, what you really look like – underneath this." Her warm fingers reached up to brush the skin on his face.

He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, gathering himself from the mild shock of the request. Did she know what she was asking for? His Jotun form… The root of his discontent – his hatred – for himself and for his family. For his people. And – if he were honest – he was afraid she would turn away from him. He feared that this Æsir, human-looking skin was what allowed her to relate to him – to love him. She would see him as he was himself – as a monster.

Then again, he was the god of lies. He didn't really have to be honest – at least not with himself.

As he opened his eyes slowly, he put the fear away to the back of his mind. It wasn't helpful, and it wasn't something he wanted to think about. he trusted Cara – at least as far as he was capable of trust. What's more, he loved her. He would not keep this from her – especially now that she'd asked for it.

"Are you sure?" Some small – or not so small – part of him wanted her to say no. Why shatter a pleasant illusion? But he knew her far too well to believe she'd ask if her mind wasn't made up.

Sure enough, she nodded determinedly, prompting him to sigh heavily. Headstrong woman. How she got him to do things he didn't want to do – all the time, actually – he would never know. He'd admit most times he turned out the better for it, but it didn't change the fact her talent for manipulating him, however unconscious that talent may be, far surpassed even his mother's. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

Resigned to whatever was about to happen, he stood and removed his tunic, leaving himself bare-chested before her. He looked her in the eyes – those serious, excited, eager eyes – one last time before letting the illusion he'd held since infancy to fade. It had been part of him for so long it had taken him months of practicing to release the magic in his skin fully. Even now it took more effort than he would admit. But the effect, he know, was somewhat stunning. The perfect, icy, glittering blue would start at his fingertips and spread slowly up his arms and down his chest. His fingernails would harden and change color even as the scar-like ridges of his birthright crept across his skin. Beautiful and terrifying, the last things to change were always his eyes. Ruby red and glittering, the color would stain his entire eye, barely leaving only the hint of a blood-red pupil at the center. Through these, his true eyes, all the universe seemed clearer. Every line was crisper. Every color was brighter. He could see down below the normally-visible spectrum of light to take in the changes in heat around the room. His own icy, endothermic skin. Her warm, bright, exothermic form. It was incredible. And frightening.

He involuntarily flinched when she rose from the bed, awe plainly written on her features. Loki had to force himself to relax. She wasn't running. She was smiling. Brave girl.

"You're beautiful," she said simply, her eyes absorbing the sight of him.

He said nothing, half convinced she was trying to make him feel better. Her small hand reached out hesitantly to touch him.

As her fingers brushed his skin along one of the ridges, he gasped. The sensation was intense almost to the point of pain, but infinitely more pleasurable. An electric shock raced through his body from the point of contact. Heat seared through his freezing veins. It literally took his breath away.

Too soon, she pulled back, leaving him gasping for air.

"Sorry," she murmured, suddenly not so sure of herself. Did she think she'd hurt him?

"Don't be," he smiled, nearly trembling. "It was just… unexpected." He took a small step closer to her, not daring to touch her again just yet. Best to let himself recover a little first. "Are you not afraid?" He looked down at her glowing form curiously.

"I've never been afraid of you, Loki. I don't think I'll start now."

"Even now that you know?"

She laughed lightly and set her hands on his hips. Even through the fabric of his breeches her touch was like sweet fire. "The way you look doesn't change who you are. Nothing is different now. I love you, no matter what face you choose to wear."

He brushed his fingers gently across her cheek and knew that this was having much the same effect on her as it was on him. Perhaps she was right, that this was only a face. If he was a monster, it didn't have anything to do with being a frost giant.

Loki looked down into Cara's gleaming eyes. The colors were so bright now – truly spectacular. Blue and grey with small flecks of greens and gold and a little bit of brown. So full of love.

Maybe not so much a monster now as he had been not so long ago.

"And I love you." her face lit up even as he slid his hand to the back of her head, drawing her in for the gentlest of kisses. It was very nearly an explosion. And he welcomed it this time. Her hands shook as they slid up his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. As their tongues met, the wetness inside their mouths combined. Hers froze at his touch; his melted at hers. The rapid shift of temperatures left what air there was sizzling and popping, making his mouth tingle.

They broke apart briefly for air, her breaths as short and rapid as his. He had not expected… this.

"Do you want to…" he gasped, unable to spare enough thought to finish the inquiry.

She nodded in reply, equally beyond the ability to speak. It was answer enough. He swept her up without further hesitation and they fell quickly into the bed before removing each other's clothes with shaking hands. Her hardened tits pressed into his chest as her legs moved to wrap around his hips, bringing him closer to her. It took all his self control not to slam into her completely – gods, he yearned to. But he knew neither one of them would be able to handle that overwhelming sensation. He throbbed with need as he let his shaft slide past her clit, letting his tip rest just below her navel and trembling with pleasure at her gasping into his mouth. One of her small hands slid to the back of his head, fingers entwined in his hair. The other gripped his ass, urging him to enter her. The air around them hissed audibly as ice formed and melted and small streams of steam floated into the air.

He groaned into the kiss as he moved his hips to position himself at her entrance. He could feel the heat of her even now. Incredible. He breathed to steady himself. Slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Her wet folds around him was infinitely more overwhelming than he had expected, and he had to pause a moment before beginning to find a rhythm, sliding just a little deeper each time. Her hips rocked up into his as she arched her back against him. Every inch of her skin pressing into his drove him closer to abandoning his conscious mind and reaching into oblivion. She consumed him completely.

He moved to nuzzle her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair. The red strands shone in his vision, nearly as blinding as the warmth she was emitting. Even now, after spending so much time in his world, she smelled of pine and dirt and hard-earned sweat. The scent pulled him further from reality and further into _her_. Further into everything that she was. As he finally let himself slide the rest of the way inside her, her warm, pulsing walls closing in around him and pulling him deeper, conscious thought and all of Asgard disappeared.

** Ѡ **

Loki stood at Odin's right hand in the Norn Queen's chambers. The woman had always made him somewhat uncomfortable, even when she'd been his teacher. He'd avoided her for years, only paying visits when absolutely necessary. Now, apparently, it was absolutely necessary – at least according to the Allfather.

Loki's presence in the room was both a tribute to his trust in his son and to his mistrust in Karnilla. The trickster did his best to hide his satisfied smirk as Odin continued to ask the questions he'd hurried back to Asgard to ask.

"How have the fire demons returned?" With the Allfather's last defeat of their king, Surtur, nearly two centuries ago, the demons had been banished to a lower plane of existence outside the gates of Niffleheim, awaiting Hela's judgment.

"Their return is veiled from my Sight. I cannot say." Karnilla knew better than to speak falsehood within earshot of the Master of Lies, but Loki could hear the slight tension in her carefully chosen words and knew she trod the line between lies and truth. There were very few people who could hide things from the Queen's Sight. The list of potential adversaries narrowed significantly.

"They led the raid on Alfheim."

"Yes." Half-truth. If he had to guess, "led" would be the hinge word.

"And the signs of Ragnarok?"

Her face twisted up in a sneer as her eyes glanced ever so briefly to Loki's face. "You know as well as I Ragnarok is at last upon us. You, yourself ensured its coming."

Huh? Odin's face remained calm, unmoved even as Loki's brows furrowed in confusion. The Allfather designed the advent of the End?

"You knew as soon as you picked up that babe in the temple."

"Loki's place in prophecy is far from set."

"It is as set as it could be! _The Twilight of the Gods shall rage in his wake as he rises from the depths of Yggdrasil. The venom of the Snake shall burn in his blood and he will visit a thousand years of destruction upon the Æsir._ Is that not what I told you that very night? And you would not heed my words. You have brought this end upon your people, Allfather. There is now no other route."

Loki was brought so aback by the echo of prophecy in the woman's words that he almost did not catch the lie. He brought his mind back to the task at hand, storing his own questions away for later. There would be much to consider.

"How soon, Karnilla," the old man demanded, voice level and emotionless as ever. "I did not come to lend ear to your resentment."

A chill raced up the trickster's spine at the satisfaction in the witch's eyes. Her gaze locked on to his own and he knew his adversary for what she was. "Soon."

**Ѡ**

Sigyn stood quietly on the balcony of her quarters, gazing out onto the city. Her tear-reddened gaze fixed on the sparkling horizon and the shining Bifrost Bridge. She had thought there were no more tears to shed – that the mortal and Loki had hurt her already beyond what should have been possible. But then, not three days past, they'd returned home with the direwolf – _Fenrir._ And she'd watched them together, watched Fenrir be quietly presented and formally adopted at court. Officially a family. Even when the mortal died there would be no hope for what was left between herself and Loki. Thousands of years of devotion all gone to waste. Betrayed beyond comprehension.

Her blue eyes strayed to stare uncomprehendingly out at the strange clouds that had gathered in the sky. Funny. It looked almost like smoke.


	23. Chapter 23

Thor at last came upon his brother in a secluded corner of the palace gardens. it was an unusual spot for Loki, who had always preferred the close quiet of the library or his own room to the constant, small sounds of life that surrounded him when he was outside. Once again, the thunderer found himself wondering how great of an effect his brother's time on Midgard had on him.

"Go away, Thor."

The larger man couldn't help but smile slightly in spite of the nature of his visit. The hordes of Muspelheim gathered at the gates of the city, filling the air with smoke and ash. Yet some things would never change. "Our father wishes to speak with us, brother. There is much to discuss."

"Perhaps it would be better for me not to know. You might have a chance at success, then."

"What troubles you? It is not just the smoke on the horizon that clouds your thoughts."

"Indeed."

The scowl on Loki's face was clearly meant to discourage conversation, but Thor had never been daunted by it. He had always held no small pride in himself for being able to loosen his brother's stubborn, silver tongue when something was amiss. He knew they younger man – however unwilling – often needed someone to confide in.

"Where is Cara?" he asked innocently, taking a seat on the stone bench across the path.

"Off being motherly and affectionate with my new son, I suppose. _She_ at least could tell I wanted to be left alone."

"When have I ever been inclined to give you privacy, brother? You've long outgrown the more effective methods of chasing me away."

"Not 'outgrown,' Thor. Just saving for an appropriate time. And you know I could always just lie to satisfy your interminable curiosity."

"And add to your discomfort the task of keeping your story consistant?"

He was answered only by a grudging sneer of consent. There was a slight pause, and Thor knew he had won his brother's confidence – this time at least.

"I am the harbinger of Ragnarok."

That was definitely a response he had not been expecting. "And who told you this?"

"The witch was scolding your father for taking me in all those years ago. She found it prudent to remind him within my earshot."

"_Our_ father," he pointedly corrected. Loki just shrugged as if it made little difference. "And you know better than any not to trust Karnilla's words. She's nearly as talented a liar as you."

"She claimed to have warned him of my betrayal – of my punishment beneath the serpent. 'The venom of the Snake shall burn in his blood and he will visit a thousand years of destruction upon the Æsir.' I have brought this doom upon you, brother. I am sorry."

Thor was quiet for a moment as he absorbed new information. He knew little of prophecy and visions and from what he could tell, such predictions seemed to always cause more harm than good. But Loki, naturally, had always b=put much more stock in such magic. He seemed to truly believe this was his fault. "And how did Father react to this?"

"He was stoic – unphased, as always."

"Then perhaps it does not do to dwell on these things too much." He took a brief moment to gather his thoughts and allow Loki to glare at him skeptically. "Perhaps prophecy is simply a possibility rather than a truth. There are many roads we could have taken. Must all lead to the same end? I do not believe the Allfather would have brought you here in such a way – much as we all love you – if it would lead to the twilight of the Nine Realms."

"You have an odd way of trying to bring me comfort, Thor."

"I mean to say," he took another brief moment to think of how he should word his thoughts. Communication and philosophical concepts were fields he had never been particularly good at. He found trying to combine them rather tedious, but he did his best to take his time with them. "Father must have believed he could choose a path that did not lead to destruction. If he is unconcerned by the possibility, he must believe he has succeeded."

"And if he is wrong? If I still manage to kill you all? My grasp on the more honorable virtues you have tried all these years to beat into me is still rather tenuous."

Thor looked his brother firmly in the eyes, doing his best to convey how much he valued what meager trust they had built up between them the last few weeks – how much he trusted Loki to do what needed to be done, one way or the other. "Then that will be the path that you choose to follow. Be sure you make your choices for the right reasons."

**Ѡ**

Odin stood on the balcony overlooking Asgard, his thoughts a scrambled heap of questions. The army of fire demons raged in anticipation right outside his gates, gathered on what was left of the Bifrost Bridge. A swirling sphere of light in every perceivable color had formed at the jagged edge of the bridge – a portal. If the demons were to flood into the city, more would come through the portal. Asgard could very well be more than outnumbered. Surtur – by far the largest of his kind at nearly eight feet tall, stood challengingly where he knew Odin could see him, the great fiery sword _Twilight _strapped against his charred, blackened, burning back. The ALlfather had never thought to see the Fire Demon again, thinking he had been truly lost to the abyss of open space between the branches of Yggdrasil after their last battle – years before Thor and Loki had been born. But it seemed the king of Muspelheim had found a means of surviving that perilous journey – and had taught his people to do the same.

The great host that stood before him was nearly twice the size of the last he had defeated. Another great war was upon them, and Odin knew now he was not nearly prepared for it. Thor's brash words rang through his mind, not for the first time that day. "While you sit here making speeches, the Nine Realms laugh at us!" Perhaps the boy had been right. Though it looked as if the Realms had been doing far more than simply laughing.

"My king," Heimdall's voice rang out beside him, deep and somber. "Your sons approach."

Heimdall had only had a few moments notice before the army had come crashing down on his post. Barely even enough time to allow the Gatekeeper to reach relative safety behind the golden walls of the city. Odin was glad the man had chosen not to stand and fight the onrushing horde of burning creatures, though he knew that decision weighed heavily on the Watcher's heart. Heimdall was, however, beyond valuable in war, even when his sight was veiled.

Thor and Loki strode in through the double doors behind him. Tyr – master of battle and war and a close friend to his sons – would also be here soon. Between those three and Heimdall, they were all the council of war he and all of Asgard required. The Allfather took a deep breath and steadied himself, casting his questions and doubts away. There were decisions to be made, battle plans to form, war to be waged. Prophecy be damned – he was going to win.

**Ѡ**

Cara ran her fingers slowly through Fenrir's glittering fur. An odd, beautiful mix of honey-gold and deep, mystifying black, each strand seemed to gleam and shimmer as if it were spun metal – when he was clean, that was. And Fenrir, Cara had found, did his best to _never _be clean. Especially after a long day spent playing with the Warriors Three.

While they had initially been both cautious and perplexed by Fenrir's newfound position in Asgard, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun had quickly been won over by the pup's intelligence and playful nature. Though he couldn't actually speak, he communicated surprisingly well using light barks and a wide range of facial expressions. Thor had most definitely been right. The direwolf was absolutely a child in every respect, not a pet. Her child.

Cara had never really considered the idea of being a mother. But she supposed adopting a wolf as a son was a pretty good way for her to start.

Amber eyes glanced up at her. He was tired, but she knew the smoke in the air unnerved him. When he had finally noticed the dark clouds floating in above them, the pup had refused to leave her side, insisting on physical contact whenever possible. So Cara had politely excused herself from her still rather newfound friends and made her way to a small, secluded balcony overlooking the side of Asgard that did _not_ include the Bifrost Bridge. She sat down on the ground with Fenrir nestled snugly between her knees, his head resting comfortably on her thigh as she leaned back against a gleaming pillar.

She smiled down at him encouragingly past the growing knot in her stomach as she scratched gently behind his ear. Everyone she'd seen today had been concerned over the threat of war – especially Loki. It had been a long time since she'd seen him so… well… moody. And then he'd had a very obvious reason to be.

Right on cue, the god of mischief himself appeared in the archway, looking as grim as Cara had ever seen him. Even so, he forced a small smile for her benefit.

"Hey, you," she said softly. Cara had some idea of what he was going to say, but she didn't particularly want to hear it. She wasn't particularly in the mood to start a fight.

His expression softened a little into a more genuine smile, though it still didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What's up?"

"We need to talk, darling."

She sighed and drew Fenrir into her arms as she pushed herself to her feet. The pup hooked his paws over her shoulders and snuggled closely into her neck, trying to ignore the slight tension in the air.

"You cannot stay in Asgard. I must take you somewhere safe until the battle is over."

Cara took a deep breath, trying to make her brain engage over the tumult of emotions such a simple statement threw her into. It was not rejection. He just wanted to protect her. That being said, it still made her rather angry. "Why?"

He looked as if the question confused him. As if it were obvious that she were soft and squishy and mortal. "I want you to be safe."

"And how am I supposed to know if _you're_ safe?"

"I will return to Midgard for you when I can."

"And if you can't? Am I supposed to wait for you indefinitely, wondering whether or not you're dead or Asgard has fallen or some other horrible thing has happened?"

His face fell immediately and he looked away towards the floor. Cara knew she'd misspoken. It curbed her anger just a little.

"You need not wait, if you do not wish it. There are plenty of men on Midgard who would appreciate your company in my absence."

She set Fenrir on the ground gently, even as the pup protested quietly and pressed himself against her calf. "Loki, that isn't what I meant." Tears came unbidden to her eyes even as she moved to wrap her arms around his middle, his arms hesitantly responding to hold her close to him. "It's just… if I leave, I could lose you and I'd never know. I'll be completely cut off. If you lose – if you die – no one's going to come knocking at my door to let me know. You just won't come back."

She could feel his warm breath on the skin of her neck as he moved his head closer to her. "I know. This isn't what I want, either." There was a long moment where they simply held each other close, their son trying his best to be close to them both. "There is a way I can come and see you sometimes. When Thor was banished, I came to visit him on Midgard for a short time. It is taxing, but I will do it. I do not know how often, but I will come. I can promise you that."

Cara simply nodded into his chest, unwilling to let him go. Even the part of her that wanted to rant and rage against this knew that he was right. If she stayed, he'd be too worried about her to do what he needed to do. She would just have to trust him – hard as it was to let go.

"Thor will arrange for you to stay with Jane on Midgard. I imagine he will also come to visit her sometimes, so you won't be without information for very long."

"What are you going to do?"

He hesitated. "The Allfather is sending me to Jotunheim to seek an alliance with the Frost Giants. It seems that I am rather uniquely suited for the task."

"Even after you killed Laufey?"

"Hopefully most people don't know the specifics regarding Laufey's death. If they do, I imagine it's going to be a rather short alliance."

"Be careful."

"You know me." That coaxed a slight chuckle out of her. Perhaps careful wasn't the right word.

"I want to bring Fenrir with me."

"A direwolf on Midgard? That's going to go over well." He had a point.

"He's small enough that most people shouldn't notice. And he'll be good," she peeked down briefly at her son. "Won't you." The pup gave an affirmative bark.

"I suppose I'm not going to be able to talk you out of that one, am I?"

"Nope." She stretched up on her toes to kiss the warm skin on his neck, fighting back chills that had more to do with fear than with being cold. As if anyone could be cold with fire demons on their front porch. "I'm going to miss you."

He pulled back for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. Cara looked long and hard at those orbs, trying to memorize them in case she never got to see them again. "And I you. It'll be alright, dear heart." A small smile crept up into his eyes. "All else fails, I imagine Hela will let you come visit me in Niffleheim."

He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her gently, his lips moving slowly to capture hers before finally pulling away. "I do love you, you know."

She let herself smile for a moment and forget all that was about to happen. "I love you back."


	24. Chapter 24

**Yay, main conflict! And a longer chapter! Just a forewarning – things are going to get a lot less fluffy… now. Now that we've seen a lot of warm, nice Loki, we get to take a look at darker, more badass Loki. I'm excited. ;)**

**Let the battle commence! **

**Oh, and to ****DemonStealer****, Loki's knot is now the cover art for the story. **

**Ѡ**

It was possible – definitely possible – that Loki had exaggerated a little on Odin's planned alliance with Jotenheim when he'd last spoken with Cara. It was also entirely possible that the Allfather had merely mentioned that, in the unlikely event that the Fire Demons were to prove themselves to be too overwhelming, the Æsir might be forced to seek aid from the Frost Giants. He also probably would have said something about wanting to delay such a decision until the last possible moment because that particular alliance would undoubtedly come at the cost of the Casket of Ancient Winters, and Odin was most likely rather reluctant to relinquish that particular artifact – especially after all the trouble he'd gone through to gain possession in the first place.

Loki, however, was well aware that Karnilla had been listening in on their "council of war" and had undoubtedly fed that information to the invading army. So the Master of Lies was going to do what he did best – something entirely unexpected. What Loki had _not_ lied about was the fact that he was uniquely suited to the task of negotiating an alliance with Jotenheim. That didn't necessarily mean that he was going to be successful, but he probably had the best chance out of everyone.

Navigating the freezing wastes of his birth-planet was infinitely easier with his natural eyes. The magical strain of both maintaining the rest of his Æsir form and shielding his movements from the witch was greater than he had anticipated, and he was glad he had "borrowed" the Tesseract from his father for his trip. Karnilla would likely notice the spike in energy the Cube would emit, but her incredible frustration caused by not knowing _where_ he was or what he was doing was exceptionally satisfying.

To the human eye, Jotenheim was a dead world. But in Loki's vision, it was a magnificent sight. Each crystal of ice sent rainbows of light cascading across the snow. The color was nearly overwhelming. But the subred spectrum defined the landscape, revealing the changes in heat – including the warm cluster of bodies in the general direction of where the crumbling capitol was.

By the time the Frost Giants became aware of his presence and began surrounding him, Loki had little need of his enhanced vision and allowed his eyes to shift back into their normal green shade. Best to keep that card in his pocket until it was needed.

"And so the Asgardian Prince returns." The deep, rough voice was at once alien and familiar, reminding Loki of the few times he had heard his sire speak. The face from which the sound originated, however, was far younger, though the ridges on his skin mirrored Loki's own natural form. "Your last visit did not play much in our favor."

The trickster raised his hands in a mild gesture of peace, smiling slightly in mock apology. "A short spat between father and son. I assure you I come with the best of intentions." He almost smirked at the duality of the truths, but managed to keep a moderately straight face. "I suppose I should congratulate you on your recent ascension to the throne."

"Or offer condolences on the loss of my father, the king."

"Ah, yes. Condolences would be in order."

"If you were here for a social visit."

"Jotenheim would be an odd place for an Asgardian to socialize, customarily speaking."

"You are aware that I keep my father's peace with Asgard – or what's left of it. Trespassing on Jotenheim could be grounds for war."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not trespassing. I leave such things to my brother." He grinned to encourage the light joke, but if the young Jotun king found it amusing he didn't show it. "No, I come on Odin's business – a visit of state, you might call it."

"I have nothing of state to discuss with the Allfather's lackey. Tell him to come himself. Until then, you have no business here, Odinson."

Loki grinned widely. "Even if I offer you the Casket?"

The Giant's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he leaned forward on the throne. "You? Or your king?"

He made a show of looking around casually, taking in the small crowd of Jotuns gathered in the open throne "room." "Perhaps it would be prudent to move this discussion to a more private setting. The affairs I must discuss with you are of a rather delicate nature."

"We have no secrets here among brothers."

"Not from your people, no. But there are eyes other than those present who would wish to eavesdrop, and my Cloak cannot cover so many people at once."

The king took a moment to think it over before rising from the icy dais and striding with echoing footsteps into a side cavern. Loki swept after him, his green cloak swirling around his ankles as he followed his birth-brother through an icy tunnel and into a more private – and more enclosed – room.

The Jotun spun on him, stooping over to bring his face close to Loki's. "How can I trust what you say, Silvertongue? We both know you have no qualms about lying at the expense of my people."

Ah, so he knew the truth about his father's death. Interesting. "Would it help if I trusted you with a secret? One that could easily mean my destruction?" _And would reveal your more personal weakness – a stolen, runt of a brother who would be heir to your throne before you?_

The Giant said nothing, so Loki let his Æsir form fade away to reveal his true self. This king's widening eyes betrayed his thoughts – he knew the implications of this. Then he laughed – completely catching Loki off guard.

"The Jotun Prince of Asgard," he chuckled, finding a seat in the ice formations in the walls. "Well met, _brother._"

**Ѡ**

Mjӧlnir whizzed back into Thor's hand just in time for the thunder god to swing the weapon up into the chin of an onrushing Fire Demon. He had been fighting for perhaps half an hour this cycle, and had long ago lost count of which cycle he was on. But the ash and smoke were beginning to give him difficulty breathing, even through the wet cloth covering his nose and mouth as a filter. He had killed nearly a hundred of the enemy, but even with the combined strength of the Asgardian warriors surrounding him their efforts seemed to hardly make a dent in the horde. And Surtur hadn't even shown his face for this battle – the first of many. It was a taunt – an insult to their courage. And it led Thor to believe that the Great Demon was biding his time, unconcerned with the Æsir's preemptive strike.

Not for the first time, he wondered at Loki's absence. He could only guess that he was on a separate mission for his father – perhaps gathering intelligence on the movements on Muspelheim or in the library researching the veil that blocked Heimdall's sight. But it still frustrated him. His brother should be by his side, soaked with blood and caked in ash as he was, grinning through his fatigue with the heat of battle.

Norns knew his magic would be beyond useful when even prolonged close proximity to the Demons could result in a painful, horrifying death.

The Æsir warriors cycled through the front lines, ensuring that no man or woman lingered for long in the intense heat. Even then, those who did not wear proper armor or were caught in the fray sported serious burns. The healers were running short of precious healing stones and had resorted to more crude treatments such as ointments and wrappings. Thor, himself, had to tie what was left of his singed hair back and out of the way, lest he risk burning away his face. For the more minor burns on his hands and cheeks, he insisted on only a salve to ease the healing process when he had chance to rotate back to the healing camps behind the once-golden gates of the city. Perhaps he would go questing for more stones after this war was over.

He ducked beneath a smoldering scythe and threw his hammer into the Demon's stomach before retreating again to let a fresher sword take up the battle. He was wheezing by the time he reached the camps.

Sif said nothing as she handed him a crude wooden cup full of water, breathing heavily, herself. Most of her black tresses had burned away, and she had a long burn across her neck and collarbone. For morale purposes, Thor had ensured that he, Sif, Tyr, or one of the Warriors Three was always present at the front. Sif should have just gotten off her rotation before him.

"Any news?"

The Valkyrie shook her head, hazel eyes glancing past him to the horizon. "Nothing. Loki has not appeared. Odin prepares to take the next cycle to draw Surtur out. Nothing changes."

Thor nodded slowly, feeling moderately disappointed, before glancing up at his home just in time to see a bolt of blue energy streak onto one of the balconies. He grinned and began whirling Mjӧlnir in a circle beside him. "My brother has returned. I must speak with him immediately." Without waiting for a response, he shot into the air and whizzed towards home.

**Ѡ**

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Hold on a second!" Darcy Lewis shouted at the front door as she hurried down the hallway, brown ringlets bouncing across her back with each step. It didn't stop the insistent, incessant knocking, but shouting at her visitors made her feel slightly less irritated. It seemed like since Thor and his mentally unstable brother took off people just kept showing up at their doorstep for one reason or another.

She cracked the door open about a foot and leaned against the whitewashed doorframe, pushing her glasses up on her nose before coolly glancing up at none other than the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., himself.

"Something you wanted?" She raised her eyebrows slightly, undeniable and unashamedly enjoying the small power game she was playing with one of the most powerful men on Earth. Hell, she was best friends with the Thunder god's girlfriend. Key word being "god." "Unintimidated" didn't even _begin_ to describe her attitude towards these suckers – especially since they'd "lost" her iPod two years ago during Thor's first visit. Asshats.

"Is Cara Walker here?" Darcy's attention was drawn to a shorter, busty redhead. The woman was impeccably dressed, though still somehow casual in dark jeans and a supple black leather jacket. The Baretta strapped to her thigh, however, was not lost on the young political scientist. Darcy was still rather uncomfortable around people wearing guns and had to remind herself that she was (un)officially outside of any Earth-bound authority – outside of the Avengers, maybe. Jane would be sure to declare war on Asgard's behalf (if she could even do that) if anything happened to her, right? Besides, Fury already had two strikes on his name.

"Who's askin'?"

The woman extended a slim, calloused hand and gave a slight, disarming smile. "Agent Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow. I believe we have some mutual friends."

Darcy shook her hand, still reasonably suspicious. "Yeahhuh." Her eyes darted between the short red head and the tall, grumpy black man who was making a show of not wanting to be here. There was a tense moment of silence during which Darcy waited not so patiently for an explanation.

"Is there a particular reason for this instance of sticking your noses where they're not wanted?"

"This is an unofficial visit, Miss Lewis," Romanoff assured her. Fury seemed to become more agitated with every passing minute. Darcy was sorely tempted to wait until his other eye exploded or popped out of the socket or whatever it was that eyes did under intense stress. Maybe she should tase him and speed up the process.

Shit, she'd left her taser in her room. Lucky bastard. _Note to self: buy taser to keep near the front door for future visits from dickwads._

"Director Fury has expressed a desire to visit Miss Walker, which the Avengers have strongly supported."

"And you're here because…?"

She smirked slightly and glanced up at Fury as if to tease him. "I think Stark called it 'babysitting.'"

Fury glared down at his companion sharply before attempting to recover himself. In Darcy's defense, the small giggle that escaped her lips was far more subtle than the loud cackling guffaw that she had somehow managed to suppress at the sight of the Director's facial expression. If the Avengers were attempting to bully S.H.I.E.L.D., she was decidedly not going to get in the way.

She grinned widely as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her, pushing politely past her visitors. "Right this way," she announced, still amused as she led them to the side yard. "Cara's just around the corner."

The house S.H.I.E.L.D. had given them last year was infinitely nicer than the converted cafeteria they'd been living in in New Mexico. Adjusting to Tromso, Norway, however, had been difficult, although Jane's excitement at the research opportunities had helped the transition.

The spring air was still rather crisp as Darcy turned the corner and opened the gate that led to their very green, smallish yard overlooking the lake. The small city was surrounded by water in their little green valley. It was indeed pretty, but mostly it meant that it was really damn cold all the time. How Cara managed to sit out there all day long was beyond her or Jane's comprehension – although admittedly Jane had been making more of an effort than Darcy cared to.

The rugged redhead was sitting in her usual spot beneath a small tree, Fenrir nestled quietly in her lap and a George R.R. Martin novel in her hand. Both Darcy and Jane had insisted she read the series after they'd learned that Fenrir wasn't just a shaggy, exceptionally cute dog. Within the week that she'd been here – despite the interruptions from various members of the Avengers – the woman had gone through A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings and had started the third book in the series just that morning. By the looks of it, she was already a third of the way through.

To Darcy, Cara seemed nearly as alien as the Asgardians, and she had a mild suspicion that the woman had walked right off the pages in her hand.

Fenrir raised his head to growl softly at the small approaching party, quieted only when Cara scratched him behind the ear and told him to be nice. She didn't even look up to see who it was. "I feel like I should probably mention Thor's promise to zap the living shit out of anyone who tries to cart me away again. And you probably don't want to get into what Loki would do about it. Magic, I imagine, would allow for a definite escalation in discomfort from being struck by lightning."

The Black Widow smiled slightly as if trying to suppress amusement as Fury stuffed his hands casually in his pockets, one good eye boring into the girl on the ground. "All the threats coming my way around here aren't really doing much to encourage apology."

"And torture didn't really encourage me to give up information."

"Information that you _did_ end up having, as I recall."

"And wasn't really any of your business."

"Aliens of any kind, friendly, hostile, or imprisoned, on Earth without my consent or knowledge is my business."

"And that definitely gives you the right to effectively arrest potentially innocent women who happen to be in the right area? Or maybe just cart off their research equipment? Or – "

"Alright," Fury broke in, sounding moderately – "moderately" being the key word – apologetic. "In the future I'll try and find other methods of getting the information I need."

Cara let her gaze drift up for the first time to meet the man's oddly playful, yet somehow still absurdly serious, expression and arched and eyebrow expectantly. Fenrir, as if on cue – Darcy still refused to believe the direwolf could understand full English sentences, let alone conversations, despite all evidence to the affirmative – cocked his head to the side, one ear flopping over adorably.

"And I'll try and be 'nice.'"

The hunter chuckled slightly as she put the book down on the grass and rose to her feet, nudging the wolf off her lap in the process. She smiled, and in that grey gaze Darcy noticed a certain challenge and determination which forced Fury to treat her as an equal. She extended her hand casually. "Fair enough. But I still think you owe me one."

To both Darcy's and Natasha's disbelief, Fury shook the hand and smirked. "We'll see."

**Ѡ**

Karnilla met Sigyn on a balcony overlooking the battle. The blonde was, without a doubt, something of a wreck. The loss of her beloved had nearly destroyed her. Her usual bubbly, personable, disarming nature had taken a more miserable turn. Her eyes were nearly always red and puffy as she stared out at the darkening horizon as if she didn't care what tomorrow brought – as if life itself had no further meaning. And the witch loved it.

She gently laid a slim hand on the Vanir woman's shoulder, eyes full of concern as Sigyn spun around, startled. "It was such a cruel thing he did to you. No forewarning. Not a thought to your cares – to the loyalty you've shown him all these years. Just showing up with that mortal whore."

Blue eyes moved to the floor. "You shouldn't call her that," she said softly. Sigyn had always been one to think of courtesy. "And I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Both princes fall prey to mortal women? I'd suspect there was more involved than simple lust – or even love. These Midgardians must be more than they seem." Karnilla let her eyes drift out to the horizon as well, suppressing the slight rush of excitement at seeing the extent of her handiwork from a distance.

"Perhaps. But it is not for me to – "

"Not for you to judge? To investigate?" The witch raised her voice, incredulous. "He was to be your husband, girl. What if she's stolen him by some enchantment? Both princes? Would you not lift a finger to save him?"

The girl was silent for a moment as she considered the possibility, albeit remote, that there was some merit to Karnilla's words. The witch already knew she'd get what she wanted. "What would you have me do, your Grace? Midgard is a world away from here and Loki will not see me while the battle rages."

She smiled and put her arm around the woman's shoulders, drawing her in. "Midgard is not so far as you think."


	25. Chapter 25

Thor had been less than enthusiastic in his reception to Býeistr, though he'd done his best to hide it. Loki, for his part, tried his best not to take his brother's displeasure to heart. It would take more than the revelation of his adoption to banish the Thunder god's suspicions of the Jotuns. Thankfully, their visitor seemed more amused than annoyed by his hesitant greeting – a fact which helped disperse some of the tension they were all feeling.

Býeistr had surprised Loki at every turn, his lighthearted nature doing a great deal to counterbalance the grim portrait Asgard painted of their long-time enemies. Where Laufey had been cold and often cruel – hungry for power and land and vengeance against Odin – the young king laughed at every slight and seemed to be eager to pursue peace. Where Laufey was slow and hard as ice, Býeistr was water, fluid and forceful and quick. In many ways, the giant's sharp wit and casual demeanor reminded Loki much of himself, and the Trickster hoped that resemblance would be enough to smooth the path to a much needed alliance.

At Loki's insistence, they retired to a small meeting room he could more easily veil from Karnilla's sight. When Thor asked for a reason, he shrugged his shoulders and let slip that Surtur would be a fool not to have eyes in Gladsheim – whether or not that was true, Loki cared little. Until he had proof of the witch's treachery, he would not reveal his suspicions unless absolutely necessary.

"My brother has risked much to bring you here, Jotun King," Thor began, choosing his words carefully. His face was lined and caked with dirt and ash and blood – a tribute to the fierceness of the fighting raging at the gates. Loki had rarely seen his brother look so drained, especially with the rage of battle coursing through his veins.

The Jotun, true to form, didn't miss a beat. He flashed a smile over his shoulder as he moved away from the rich painting he'd been glancing over and gave a small shrug. "Formalities take time – which is doubtless in short supply. And calling you both 'Prince of Asgard' may soon become tedious and confusing if we continue. Besides," his ruby eyes twinkled knowingly. "I do believe we both call the same man 'brother.'"

Thor balked for a brief moment at the idea of being family to the king of Jotenheim, and Loki once again did his best to separate his emotions from the current situation. Now was not the time to test his brother's love of him, let alone his birthright.

Býeistr raised a hand casually to calm the older prince. "Laufey was a harsh and unforgiving man – much like Jotenheim itself. Though Loki was born before I was a thought in my mother's eyes, I have little doubt my father would leave him to die. The Allfather has done my family a great honor by making my brother his own son – though there are many who would not see it as such. For good or ill, we are all bound together now. And I, for one, am hopeful that this rift between our peoples will at last be breached."

Loki smirked to himself as he watched his brothers grasp arms in a sign of peace, though Thor seemed to fear the Jotun's touch. "Where is Odin?" he asked the blonde man quietly, green eyes displaying the triumphant song in his heart. _Eat that, Witch._

He paused for a slight moment. "Eat that"? Damn Cara and her Midgardian influence. Norns forbid he utter something so ridiculous out loud.

"Father is preparing to take the next cycle. He hopes to draw Surtur into the fray and meet him in battle." Thor rolled his shoulders to stretch before glancing between his brother and their would-be-ally. "I will go and find him."

Before he really knew what he was doing, Loki put a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from going to the door. "I will go. You must rest, Thor. No one will be thanking you if you fall asleep mid-swing with Mjollnir in your hand." Býeistr chuckled briefly at that as the Thunder god bristled at the implication of weakness. Loki merely grinned as he projected his consciousness down the hallway and into his father's chambers, disappearing from sight.

**Ѡ**

"Are you ready?"

Sigyn barely recognized herself as she gazed emptily into Karnilla's looking glass. Dressed head to toe in green, blonde waves arranged around an artful headdress, she was a vision of power in emerald. The witch had amplified what small magical abilities she had, leaving her skin to tingle with heightened awareness as the air brushed across her bare shoulders. There was a faint glow to her eyes, staining the normally blue irises to an eerie sea green.

_Am I ready?_ Such a simple question. The answer should be equally as simple, shouldn't it? She didn't believe in the Norn's cause – she didn't really believe in anything at the moment. Yet she was tired of doing nothing, tired of waiting for things and people who had no intention of making the wait worth her while. She would wait no longer.

Goddess of Fidelity? Goddess of foolishness, more like. She had been naïve, a girl in a woman's body. Fidelity was a dream – one could not be faithful to those who bore no allegiance to her as well. There was no trust, now, in either party. And she would not be a fool. She might choose to serve Karnilla, but it was through no act of loyalty. She might just as well choose to serve the Jotuns or the Dwarves or even the Æsir, should it suit her. Faithful only unto herself – to her own desires and passions. _Fidelity._ Sigyn, no longer. She would take a new name, and with it a new domain. A new identity.

_Am I ready?_

"Sigyn?" Karnilla had never been a patient woman.

"Amora," she said simply, her lips pressed into a line. Amora after those she'd loved and those who'd betrayed her. Amora to remind her every moment that love was a dream.

The red witch smiled slightly. "What was that?"

"My name," she repeated carefully, betraying no emotion. She was empty as Loki's promises. "Is Amora."

"Very well then." The woman could not contain her glee, and Amora felt only disgust for her. She wanted war for the sake of war. Yet she would give her everything for such a small price. "Enchantress."

The Enchantress looked back at the shimmering pane of glass before her, prepared for her task. Sigyn had been hesitant, afraid, and weak. _She_ would not be. She stepped forward, feeling the cool liquid-like mirror pass across her skin. The cold burned, but her new power sustained her. And she was unafraid. When at last she opened her eyes, it was not the golden towers and gleaming suns of Asgard that greeted her, but a dark and shifting wasteland. Svartalfheim – and her army.

**Ѡ**

Loki quickly realized why, exactly, Thor had set up the cycle system. Within minutes, the Trickster found himself nauseous and dripping with sweat-saturated ash, fighting not only against the terrifying creatures before him, but also the exceptionally strong urge to return to the palace and use the Casket as an air conditioner.

_Duck. Spin. Throw._ As the knife left his fingertips to imbed itself between the eyes of another foe, he was already moving away from another attack. His were distance-based weapons, and every time he took the time to throw a knife or call one back, he was vulnerable to closer demons. He had successfully slowed the onrushing flow of their enemies, but he found himself relying heavily on others to defend him.

He recalled the knife, slamming a bolt of green energy into the back of another demon who had gotten past the first line of warriors. The Asgardian who had been about to get skewered by the ten-foot poleax rushing towards him spared a moment for a look of gratitude, too tired to speak, but Loki was already gone. He could not allow himself to hesitate.

Three knives shot out from his hands as he sprang out of the reach of another long axe. He rolled away from a blackened sword edge, as wide as his own waist. His hands found the jagged haft of a spear and he brought the discarded weapon arcing up into another's chin, singing his glove in the process.

Move.

There was little time to spare for thought between blows, so he relied almost completely on instinct. Somewhere he'd found a shield, then lost it again. Now and then he found a sword or an axe in his hands, but mostly he called upon his magic, sending green light out in darts to slow them. When the heat became too intense, he would try and cool the air lest it become too oppressive. He threw shields around those who were about to be killed and threw knife after knife after knife out into the horde until he could no longer feel his arms or his fingers for fatigue. Yet there were so many he could not spare – so many he could not kill. They were losing.

And suddenly he understood why he had lost on Midgard, as he watched his people dying around him. There was a strength the mortals had found in desperation – a strength which Asgard in all its might had never known. He had everything to lose. And if, as he very well might, he should lose he'd be damned if he wouldn't take as many of these bastards with him.

**Ѡ**

Cara watched Fenrir chase a squirrel around a tree, chuckling to herself, though she found little humor in life lately. Nearly two weeks had passed, and there still was no word from Asgard. Yet she told herself to be patient, all the while wondering if time passed differently on Earth – or if Loki was just being an ass and forgot. Granted, he was probably fighting eight foot tall fire demons and attempting to defend his home and everything he cared about – well, almost everything – from being incinerated. But he really couldn't take five minutes out of his day to let her know if he was still alive? Really?

The direwolf, as if sensing her dark mood, trotted back over to where she stood on the back porch, leaning out over the balcony. The lake was indeed beautiful, especially as the sun was setting, but she found herself only wishing for Loki's company. It was odd how she'd grown so accustomed to having him around – not so long ago she'd actively gone out of her way to avoid all people as much as possible. But somehow he had her reevaluating the merits of solitude, thinking that maybe life as a hermit was somewhat overrated.

And then he left her alone with _their_ adopted direwolf so _he_ could go fight his war.

The sound that escaped her was half frustrated grumble, half resigned sigh as she reached down to rub Fenrir's head, glancing down at his worried expression. "You miss him too, huh?"

"Dinner!" Jane's voice drifted out of the house along with the scent of burning meatballs. It was the scientist's turn to cook again, and, although the scientist could use all the practice she could get, Cara couldn't quite bring herself to encourage her friend's enthusiasm. Thankfully, she didn't think Jane would be spending much time in Asgardian kitchens whenever Thor got around to making their relationship "official" enough to take her home with him.

"Do you feel like meatballs?" she asked the amber eyes gazing affectionately up at her. The snort and shake of the head – combined with a tongue lolling out in disgust – confirmed her suspicions.

"You gonna go catch that squirrel, then? Cuz I'm out of jerky, kid."

He looked longingly back at the tree before hanging his head in resignation. She couldn't help but laugh at the mock-hurt expression he was giving her. _And you claim to love me,_ he seemed to say in complaint.

"Hey, if I've gotta eat it, you can too." She knelt for a moment to scratch under his chin. "Don't like it? Tell that to your dad when he finally shows up." She sighed and kissed him lightly on the cheek before heading inside, her son at her heels.

Darcy was coming down the stairs and gave Cara a look of feigned horror at the prospect of entering the kitchen. The hunter merely grinned in agreement.

"Hasn't someone shown you how to use the pan yet?" The political scientist teased as she sat down at the table.

Jane frowned. "They're still better than my last try."

"Far be it from us to complain about progress," Cara laughed.

"If you don't like it, cook for yourselves." She pretended to be hurt as she dished out the charred once-brown spheres onto a plate filled with overly-sticky pasta. No sauce. Just pasta. There hadn't exactly been an overabundance of Italian food when she'd been a recluse, but Cara was pretty sure she remembered tomato sauce going really well with spaghetti and meatballs.

Darcy flashed her a look across the table as if this was all her fault. _You had the option of cooking and you passed it up?_

She shrugged and picked up a fork even as Fenrir pushed around his food with his nose, debating on whether or not he'd break his teeth if he made an honest attempt at chewing. "I tried. She kicked me out."

"Cara knows how to cook – sort of. Ask her for help," Darcy suggested, still obviously set on complaining for a while.

"I want to – "

Before she could finish, there was a firm knock on the front door. The hairs on the back of Cara's neck rose in warning and Fenrir bared his teeth, emitting a low growl as he leapt down off the chair. Jane pushed herself up to answer it.

"Wait," Cara warned her, grey eyes suddenly fully alert. She slipped a knife off the table and into the top of her boot, heeding that strong sense that something wasn't quite right.

"What's wrong?" Darcy started, but the hunter put a finger to her lips, indicating for them to be quiet.

"Go out the back door and get into the boat. Be as quiet as you can. Fenrir, you too. Start across the lake, but don't wait for me. If I'm not there in five minutes, call Stark." Without waiting for a response, she crept up the stairs to retrieve her bow and knife, hoping her friends trusted her enough to follow her instructions. She peered out her window carefully, but could see nothing but the night. The streetlamps were out.

Going down the stairs with her bow drawn was more difficult than she'd anticipated, but she managed well enough. Better to be ready and slow than not have an arrow when she needed one. Their visitor knocked again – how absurdly polite of them. There was, of course, the possibility that she was overreacting, but when her instincts said something, she had to listen. She had too many scars from previous experiences to ignore them with a clear conscience.

The wood in the house creaked as she carefully made her way towards the front door, hoping to get a look at whoever was on the other side. She'd hate to evacuate the house because some poor European cop was letting them know there was some sort of power outage on their street. But as she stood to try and look through the peephole, the door exploded in a burst of blinding green light, throwing her backwards down the hall to lie bleeding and stunned in a pile of splintered wood.


	26. Chapter 26

**Sorry for the really really late update. In addition to holidays and writers' block, I had to put my dog down over the break. Needless to say, because of that, this chapter was really difficult to write. Went through a couple different versions, but kept getting stuck on Fenrir…**

**Anyway, here it is (finally). The next update will be faster, I promise.**

**Thanks for reading and for the feedback. Much appreciated. **

**Ѡ**

"_Cara," he said softly, his voice carrying clearly across the cave. Her teeth were chattering loudly, though she was doing her best to stop it. It was too cold. Maybe a fire would have been alright – just a small one. She took a deep breath to answer him, knowing he'd grow irritated if she remained silent._

"_Y-y-y-y-yessssssss, Llllooookkki?" she chattered, hoping against hope he didn't want her to get up and do anything for him. He was nice enough – when he remembered to be – but his complete dependency, along with the general lack of restraint in his "requests," could be incredibly frustrating. Especially when she was freezing her ass off in a cave and trying to get to sleep. _

"_Bring your furs and blanket and come over here." His voice was calm and quiet, which naturally raised her suspicions. _

"_I-i-i-i-i-I'm f-f-f-f-fine, Lololololololoki. R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-reallllllllly."_

"_No," he insisted. "You're not. Come here."_

"_B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-but," she started to protest, albeit halfheartedly. She was cold, he was warm. And she definitely wasn't going to turn her cold, red nose up at cuddling for the night with a Norse god – even if he _was_ an asshole most of the time._

"_I promise not to touch you while you're not looking," he teased. "Now will you please just come over here before you break your teeth trying to talk?"_

His voice was so inviting, Cara willed herself to stand. But her muscles would not obey her. The rough leather on the underside of the furs poked into her skin, and she could taste blood in her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue while her teeth were chattering. In the morning, she'd have to dig out the snow covering the entrance to the cave. It would be colder for a while, and the wind would likely pick up again, but at least they could have a fire.

Her stiffened fingers curled slowly and painfully around the grip of her bow, the smooth wood still somehow warm. Funny, she didn't remember sleeping with it tonight. She tried to wiggle her frozen toes, surprised when they met the familiar resistance of her boots. She didn't remember sleeping in those, either. She frowned as she carefully opened her eyes to the flickering light bulb above her head. What the hell?

Strong hands gripped her arms and heaved her bodily to her feat. Cara, dazed, merely groaned as her knees buckled under her own weight, refusing to support her. Strange laughter met her ears when she bumped into the floor again. People somewhere were speaking loudly, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. A woman screamed. A dog growled. All the while the hunter was dragged through the shattered doorway, through the splinters of what was once the front of a house.

Jane's house? Oh, right.

Slowly – painfully slowly – gathering her wits about her, she started taking stock of what shape she was in. Her jacket was shredded and hung in tatters from her lean frame. Pieces of wood and debris covered what she could see of her skin, glued to her with blood. Her hair hung in her face, dusty and matted with even more blood. Apparently, she was bleeding from somewhere – she supposed that was good to know, although she didn't seem to be in any particular pain.

She was dropped unceremoniously in the stiff grass of Jane's front lawn and groaned loudly – at least she thought it was loudly – amending her previous observation. She didn't seem to be in any _worse_ pain in any particular part of her body. _Everything_ hurt. Her fingers still grasped the grip of her bow and she realized that it had been completely destroyed. In her hands was perhaps six inches of the polished weapon, ending in sharp, splintered fragments. The string and the limbs had been left behind in the house, mingled together with what was left of the door.

Cara slowly pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, flinching as the hunting knife in her boot cut into her skin. Her body complained rather loudly with the effort, but somehow she managed to stand, albeit neither with grace nor defiance. With a sigh, she discarded the useless remnants of her bow, trying not to think about the seriousness of her situation. At last, her blue eyes snapped up to meet her attacker.

"Sigyn?" she frowned in confusion. The face was the same, and the hair. But the resemblance stopped there, though Cara was sure it was, indeed, Sigyn who stood before her, smiling in self-satisfaction. The woman's glowing blue-green gaze bored apathetically into her, filled only with power.

"Amora," Sigyn corrected, attention drawn over Cara's right shoulder. The sounds of a brief struggle reached the hunter's ears along with a familiar snarl. Jane, Darcy, and Fenrir were soon dragged forcibly onto the lawn by several large shadows with glittering, silvery hair.

"Whatever," she shrugged, trying to force herself into a higher state of alertness. The world continued to spin and shift slightly around her. Her ears continued to ring. Her lungs refused to take in enough air. _Wake up, Cara! _

**Ѡ**

"Husband." Frigga reached for Odin's hand as he strode past her towards the door. Her voice shook with uncertainty, though she hoped he wouldn't hear it. He was dressed for battle, his armor gleaming in the setting sunlight, Gungnir heavy in his hand. Wisps of white hair floated out from beneath his golden helm as he moved, his one brilliant blue eye grim with the prospect of war.

"Have no fear, woman," he smiled kindly. "I will return." Though she loved him, Frigga wondered how he could think her such a stranger to war. Yes, this time was different. The enemy was on their front doorstep. But it was still only a battle.

He would return to her, she knew. He always did. Wounded and weary and filled with a quiet fury, he always returned to her arms. He was the Allfather by right and by skill – the warrior king who ruled over warrior gods. And if, by some infinitely small chance, he did fall, she would go to him in Valhalla. War brought no fear of loss for her. It rarely had.

But there was something weighing on her heart and it could wait no longer. The child within her was growing, and before long it would no longer escape her husband's notice. Better she tell him now while she had the chance.

She shook her head and smiled softly, grey eyes troubled. "I must speak with you, Odin. I will not wait."

He surveyed her curiously, taking her slim hand in his large one. "Then speak."

She could not meet his eye as she began, biting her lower lip in apprehension. "I have kept something from you that I should not have. I confess I was afraid. Our family only so recently has begun to heal, I dread the chance to tear it asunder. Yet time has run out, and my secret must be revealed."

"Out with it, wife," he smiled with a laugh, raising her face to meet his gaze. "You spin circles around an old man. What troubles you so?"

"I am with child, Odin. Nearly four months." At last she raised her eyes to his face, gauging his reaction. She breathed in relief when he smiled.

"You feared to tell me. Why?"

"For Loki's sake. A second trueborn son…"

His face clouded in thought. "Indeed. That is a puzzle." He brushed her hair from her face and bent to kiss her gently. The war horns sounded outside, signaling the beginning of the next cycle. "We will consider it when I return. I must go." He looked out the open window with an expression of mixed longing and regret. The battle called to him – an old sweet song so familiar to them both. Frigga knew, and understood, and a weight lifted from her chest. There would be time to think afterwards. First, there were fire demons to kill.

**Ѡ**

The heat was nearly bearable in the tents now that the Jotuns had joined the battle. And Loki was thankful for the sweet reprieve of cooler air after the heat of the front lines. His face was streaked with soot and ash, his clothing burned through in places. He had lost nearly half of his throwing knives in the past hour, and the prolonged use of magic had drained him substantially.

Though many looked at him with a newfound respect, most still kept their distance from him as he walked wearily towards the red tent where his brother and friends usually took their rest. Despite his efforts over past months, Asgardians still looked at him with apprehension, remembering acutely his betrayal. The Jotuns, sprinkled throughout the masses in groups, mainly remembered him as Thor's cohort, though a few knew he was responsible for the murder of their late king. Loki ignored them all. Let them judge him as they will. He was too tired to care.

The adrenaline slowly drifted out of his body, leaving his knees feeling weak and his muscles groaning with every small movement. He slipped inside the cool darkness of the makeshift room, taking brief note of Thor, Sif, and Hogun before moving towards the empty cot in the corner. Taking a deep breath to settle himself and banish the lingering excitement of battle from his mind, he dipped his hands in the nearby washbasin and wiped the soot from his face, pressing his fingers into his burning eyes.

"How goes the battle, brother?" Thor's weary voice drifted over to him.

Loki could not answer him. How goes the battle? With the help of the frost giants, they were at last driving the fire demons back mere inches across the shattered Bifrost. The Asgardians had been less than receptive to the idea of fighting alongside their long-time enemies, but now it seemed animosity had been overcome by desperation, though the tension between the new allies was very nearly palpable. Fortunately, however, there had been very few fights within the tents – likely due to the general exhaustion of the troops.

He merely shot his brother a look before lying down on his cot, hoping that was enough of a response. Just the act of lying down and closing his eyes was a relief and brought a degree of energy to his mind. He let his thoughts drift to Cara and found himself smiling a little at her memory.

Mustering just enough magic for the task, he sent his consciousness through the doorway to Midgard to see how she was doing. Although he hadn't had enough time or energy to devote to a full visit, he often found himself checking up on her in this small way to ease the ache of her absence and reassure himself that she was safe. Rather than seeing her, he _felt_ her and her presence. He could usually feel the sun warming her face, her frustration over their separation, the peacefulness of her sleep. He longed to hold her again – to see her smiling up at him. But this would have to be enough for now.

Instead of the familiar sensation of falling gently into Midgard, he felt his consciousness brought up short by some invisible force. He frowned in alarm, probing at the alien presence blocking his mind and his magic. Very odd. The magic was familiar as the person who wielded it. Sigyn had been tutored in the arcane arts alongside him, and he knew her methods nearly as well as he knew his own. Yet he did not remember her ever being so strong…

He shot out of the cot and went quickly back to the washbasin, ignoring his friend's curious questions at his abrupt change in attitude. As he looked deeply at his reflection in the water, Loki pushed aside his exhaustion and braced himself for the draining effects of what he was about to do, trying to dispel the strong urge to go to Midgard in person and find out why he was blocked from Cara – why Sigyn was on Midgard.

**Ѡ**

Steve was walking by the window on the helicarrier when he noticed the image in the glass. He was so surprised he nearly threw his shield at the offending plane before looking more closely.

"Loki?" The god of mischief was gazing seriously back at him where Steve's own reflection should be. He looked worn and battered – not unlike he had when he'd been captured after the incident in Manhattan.

The memory brought a small smile unbidden to the Captain's face. Ah, that moment had most definitely been satisfying.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, Captain," the Asgardian scolded half-heartedly. "I am well aware of my appearance."

"Neat trick," he nodded, admittedly impressed with the unexpected method of "face-to-face" communication.

"Thank you. I have little time, mortal. I have a favor to ask."

Steve frowned. "You're making a habit of asking for favors."

"I realize that. You may consider me in your debt, if you wish." Loki scowled, obviously displeased with the idea of being indebted Captain America.

"Don't try to take over the world anytime soon and we'll call it even."

"We can discuss that later, if you don't mind. I cannot sustain communication for long."

"Right. What do you want?"

The god frowned, the dirt on his face further darkening the expression. "I need you to go to where Cara and Jane are staying as quickly as possible."

"And why is that?"

"I have reason to believe an old friend has decided to visit Midgard. And she would have less than kind intentions for both Cara and your measly little planet."

**Ѡ**

Fenrir watched helplessly as the back of the elf's hand collided with the side of Mother's face. A low growl of warning emerged unbidden from his throat, bringing the unwanted attention of the shadow-people and another swift kick to his ribs. The bruise blossoming beneath his fur, he glared up at the grey-skinned warrior, amber yes alight with remembered flames.

Oh yes, he remembered them – remembered their jeers and gleeful shouts as his family and his home burned around him. He remembered peering out from beneath his mother's body, lungs filled with black smoke, memorizing the faces of flame and shadow, alike. The fire-people burned the earth as they'd stepped, setting even the air, itself, alight. Yet the dark ones frightened him far more. Their long, slim blades – black as night and eerily devoid of reflection – slick with the blood of his pack, danced in the darkness between he flames. So nearly invisible… But he could smell them. Sickly, smoky sweet with sweat and decay and blood.

Even now, the scent turned his stomach as his hackles raised in barely-contained fury. He could still feel the heat of their fires on his fur. Their white, ghostly smiles gleamed cruelly down at him, and Mother's cry of pain threatened what was left of his self control. As the leader of the Svartálfar forces hit her again, Fenrir made himself a silent promise to remove that hand at the first opportunity.

"Do you know why we're here, mortal?" the green woman – Amora, he reminded himself – sneered, her face close to Mother's. Her silky-smooth voice sent chills racing down Fenrir's spine.

A low, hoarse chuckle emanated from Mother's throat and she smiled darkly, a trickle of blood slipping past her lips. "I'm going to assume you didn't just want to visit and catch up."

"I'm going to end your world, Midgardian," she smiled, releasing Mother's head and letting her fall to the ground. "Ragnarok has come at last, a breath of wind on the stagnant air of existence. And this petty speck of a realm will share the fate of Asgard. You will fall, city by city – country by country – until there is nothing left of you but ash and memory. And when at last that memory fades, and the ash is caught in the wind, I will come to you in Hel to see how far Thor's precious mortals have fallen." As she spoke, Amora's face seemed to light up with some emotion Fenrir couldn't place. Her eyes burned with purpose and her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles white with the effort.

Oddly enough, Mother simply laughed again. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have let Jane cook. Take-out would have been a better last meal."

"You jest, mortal; yet not for long. You will know pain before the end. The Dark Elves, I have heard, are well versed in the infliction of suffering."

Fenrir's sensitive ears pricked up at a distant whirring sound coming from the west, though his eyes couldn't quite see the shape on the horizon. It was somewhat familiar, though – something like the metal birds that sometimes flew overhead. But different. Smaller, maybe?

"What is it with you Asgardian's and Ragnarok? Or is it really the 'taking over Midgard' bit that gets you going? For people who don't think much of us lowly mortals, you seem to take an odd interest in our planet."

Amora laughed. "You fail to see the gravity of your position, little one."

"I don't have any real reason to see how you'll succeed where Loki and countless others have failed. You really think you're the first one who's tried to end the world? Let alone the first person who's gone to extremes on the concept of revenge. I will hand it to you, though. You've definitely taken 'the woman scorned' to a new level."

The whirring sound was getting louder, almost distractingly so for Fenrir. Yet Mother and the humans didn't seem to notice, although the Dark Elves had begun looking around for the source of the mild disturbance.

The elf who had hit Mother circled slowly around her, his sword still sheathed at his hip. Unlike Amora, he seemed to find no amusement in the situation. He glared down coolly at Mother as the moonlight glinted softly off his hair and dark scaled armor. "This is far more than a grudge match, child." His deep voice was hauntingly quiet, sending a chill down the direwolf's spine. He smelled fear in the air. "Thor has claimed Midgard under Asgard's protection. The fate's of your worlds are linked. When the Realm Eternal falls, you will also. This is a simple fact. It is unavoidable." The elf's voice was oddly devoid of emotion. If anything, he sounded as if he almost _pitied_ the fate of his victims.

For once, Mother didn't seem to have anything to say to that. She merely glared up at her captors, coppery blood continuing to run down her face. The noise was unmistakable now, and Fenrir could clearly see the small aircraft quickly approaching. Mother saw it too, and she smiled. The direwolf found his confidence growing.

Amora turned angrily to the elf. "Algrim," she snapped. "I thought you said we would be invisible to the mortals."

Algrim shrugged noncommittally, seemingly unconcerned. "Perhaps the humans have advanced beyond our knowledge. We cannot protect what we do not know." He drew his sword, the dark metal hissing almost inaudibly against the sheath as it came free. "Fear not, Asgardian. We will handle this."

Mother grinned widely, and the scent of her fear dissipated noticeably, and Fenrir picked up a new scent on the air. "You should have brought more men, Sigyn."

As the gleaming metal disc flew through the air, colliding with the back of Amora's head, the young direwolf sprung into action, teeth ripping into the grey flesh of the Svartálfar.


	27. Chapter 27

**To clarify before I continue: the following is not meant in any way as an attack or complaint against any individual or group who has reviewed or is considering reviewing my story. Its purpose is purely for clarification's sake. So please don't be offended.**

**Just a quick reminder, because I know some of y'all have been distracted by some of my deviations from both mythology and Marvel: I am changing certain elements of the characters and world both in order to simplify the plot and to suit my own story-writing needs. For example, I know that Thor is actually the son of Odin and Jorn/Gaea, and that Fenrir, Jormandur, and hela are children of Loki and Angerboda the Giantess. If any of you have watched or read **_**Thor and Loki: Blood Brothers **_**(if you haven't, I highly recommend it – it's on Netflix), there's a point where Karnilla describes hundreds of layers of timelines in which Loki and Thor battle each other and Ragnarok is realized time and time again. My story is meant to describe one possible timeline where Loki meets Cara and the end of the world may or may not be avoided. **

**Because this is an alternate timeline from mythology and from the traditional comics (and, in time, the movieverse) characters such as Fenrir and Jormandur and Hela, whose existences are demanded by Fate (and by me) will come into my story in somewhat unconventional ways. Angerboda and Jorn may or may not make an appearance eventually. If they do (much like Sigyn and the Enchantress) I will likely warp them a little to suit my own purposes. (If everything were exactly the same as canon, this wouldn't be any fun, now would it?)**

**That being said, if I do screw something up too terribly don't be afraid to let me know. I don't know everything and I DO GREATLY APPRECIATE IT when people more knowledgeable than myself correct me. If it's intentional destruction of the traditional facts, I'll be happy to clarify. If I screwed it up, I'll be happy to fix it. **

**Thank you to all of you who said something kind about my dog. For ****Ellize Avalon****,**** Murphy was a standard-sized long-haired dachshund. His heart was so big it was cutting off his windpipe, so he couldn't breathe. Though he was in no small degree of pain, he was happy all the way up to the end – and that's what really matters, I suppose.**

**Without further delay, Chapter 27. **

**Ѡ**

Loki strode quickly through the palace of Gladsheim, Thor and Heimdall hot on his heels. After his brief conversation with the man out of time, he had gone directly to the Gatekeeper, ignoring his brother's rather vocal desire to be informed. The trickster had tried his best to keep calm – to maintain the ability to think. Yet when the golden-eyed guardian had confirmed the young Vanir woman was beyond his Sight – and that he was equally as blind to events on Midgard – he knew he had not time to waste.

Much as Loki wanted to run to the weapons vault and simply hijack the Tesseract for his own purposes, he recognized that would leave Asgard vulnerable. He did not have the energy to transport himself through his own magic, much less Thor as well, but he thought it would be polite at least to ask the Allfather if he could borrow the cube, first.

Then, if necessary, he would steal the most powerful artifact in the known universe and save his girlfriend from his ex-fiancée and perhaps save Midgard in the process if it happened to be convenient.

He shoved open the doors to his father's living quarters unceremoniously and was disappointed to find only Frigga gazing out at the battle. He cursed himself for not thinking to ask Heimdall where Odin was before wasting time and precious energy wandering around the palace. Damn, he was tired.

"Where is Father?" he demanded, ignoring pleasantries as well as the stunned expression on his mother's face.

"He has gone to the Bifrost to call out Surtur."

"Your brother, Býeistr, is with him," the Gatekeeper added. Loki wondered briefly exactly how much Heimdall knew about his heritage, surprised as always at how little the man revealed. Despite the trickster's efforts to shield himself from the guardian's gaze, he was sure that a less honorable man would have blackmailed him long ago.

"What is wrong, Loki?" Frigga's eyes shone with concern.

He hesitated but briefly. "Sigyn has gone to Midgard, and I believe she may have no small measure of help."

"You believe Midgard in danger?"

"Perhaps," he admitted, already frustrated with spent time. "But it is not the whole of that realm which concerns me."

She pursed her lips in thought. "Odin will return at the end of the cycle – "

"I cannot wait," he growled. Thor's large hand grasped his shoulder, both in silent warning and as a sort of comfort. Loki reminded himself as he began to pace that Jane was likely also in danger, and the thunderer felt his urgency most acutely.

"Earth is under my protection, Mother. We cannot remain idle should it face peril. The battle here goes well for us. It may be that our foes have turned an eye to Midgard to cause us strife."

Her eyes narrowed. "'Our foes,' you said. You suspect Surtur does not act alone?"

"There is more at work here than I can see. Though it seems to me that, though the hordes of Muspelheim are strong, their strategy is somewhat lacking. Perhaps the attack is naught but distraction."

Loki resisted the urge to throw things in his impatience. While it was interesting that Thor was using his brain for a change, he was in no mood to listen to a discussion on tactics. Not while he was in the dark. Not while Cara and Fenrir might depend on his timely arrival.

Frigga nodded thoughtfully. "Go then, and do what you must. I will handle your father. Are you going with them, Heimdall?"

Impassive as always, the Gatekeeper's frown was the only indication of his troubled mind. "I will stay. And watch."

Without waiting for further instruction or deliberation, Loki strode from the room. He couldn't spare the energy to run, let alone teleport down to the weapons vault – a fact which frustrated him further with every step. Thor soon caught up with him, not sparing any words but sending his brother a meaningful look.

The thunderer stopped for a moment, abruptly, and Loki was ready to commit murder in his father's house before he realized his brother's intent. Mjolnir whirled in circles as Thor took firm hold on the back of Loki's collar, and within moments they were rocketing through the deserted hallways down to the Tesseract.

When at last they were engulfed in blue smoke, the trickster noticed two things simultaneously.

One: Frigga's stomach was bulging _almost_ imperceptibly.

Two: The Casket of Ancient Winters was missing.

**Ѡ**

The world was mostly a blur, much as Cara needed to clear her head. As quickly as she could manage – which wasn't very quickly at all – she pushed herself to her feet and drew the knife from her boot, searching the surrounding chaos for her son. The newly arrived Captain America was making a path forcibly through the Dark Elves, trying to get Darcy and Jane safely to the landing Quinjet while Stark – Cara couldn't for the life of her remember when he'd gotten there – took the brunt of the hastily-organized counterattack. Hawkeye stood on the ramp of the jet picking off the elves who had started to pay attention to the battered hunter limping across the lawn. As an arrow whizzed past her head, imbedding itself in the throat of one of her attackers, Cara spared a moment to glance back at the archer in gratitude.

Clint yelled at her to get to the jet as he loosed another arrow. She shook her head, asking for precious time.

The surprisingly ferocious snarls and growls emanating from the shifting darkness caught Cara's ears, and she took comfort from the sounds, knowing the direwolf was still alive. She called his name loudly, lurching away from the clumsy attack of an elf with an arrow in his shoulder. Before she took the time to think, her hunting knife was sliding through the skin on his neck, warm, sticky blood gushing across her knuckles.

Between the erratic flashes of Tony's repulsors, she found him. His teeth were locked around Algrim's wrist as he struggled to tear the offending limb from its owner. Before she could move to get the pup, however, she found herself caught in the green light of Amora's magic, the woman's gleeful laughter harsh in her ears.

Panic welled up in her chest as she was forced to watch helplessly as one of those terrible swords sliced through the air, the elf aiming for Fenrir's neck. She screamed, struggling against her magical bonds, and the Enchantress continued to laugh, reveling in her weakness. And somehow, that fateful sword stroke never connected. The direworlf at last succeeded in his goal and the hand came free in his mouth. He smiled in dark, gruesome delight before loping off towards the inviting light of the Quinjet, fast as his puppy legs would carry him.

With a sharp metallic clang, Cara fell to the ground, released from Amora's spell. She struggled to stand, glancing over her shoulder at the Asgardian's crumpled form and Steve catching his shield on the rebound. Cold, hard fingers gripped what was left of the back of her shirt and lifted her into the air. In moments, she was flying towards the Quinjet, surrounded by the blue-white lights of Iron Man's repulsors.

**Ѡ**

Jane let out a breath of relief as Tony and Cara slipped quickly through the closing doors of the jet. In the cool fluorescent light, the extent of the battered hunter's injuries was far more apparent. A long scratch ran down the side of her face, bleeding freely. Splinters large and small protruded from the exposed skin on her arms and chest and neck. One eye was swollen and quickly beginning to darken and a gash across her lip was just beginning to clot, and a hand-shaped mark splaying across her face was turning an angry purple. She was lucky nothing was broken.

The scientist sank heavily into one of the hard seats lining the walls as they took off, not daring to glance out the window. Darcy sat beside her, dazed and stunned into an uncharacteristic silence. Fenrir had wandered tentatively over to his mother, licking gently at her wounds and nuzzling his way under her arm. The hunter rose to her knees and held the pup close to her chest, tears falling from her eyes as her fingers ran through his fur.

"Don't you ever do that again," she said quietly, and suddenly all attention in the jet was focused on her, either curious over the relationship with an animal or uncomfortable because of her relationship with Loki. Jane had grown accustomed to both Cara and others' reactions to her. The direwolf was far more than a pet – and Cara was far more than his caretaker. The young woman took the pup's face in her shaking, bloody hands and looked him firmly in the eye. "Do you have any idea how close he was to killing you? Did you even see the sword?"

For his part, the pup looked properly ashamed of himself, amber eyes downcast. His mother pulled him close again. "What am I supposed to do if I lose you?"

"Somebody mind filling me in on what's going on here?" Stark's faceplate flipped up to reveal bloodshot brown eyes. "I was drinking in Paris when Fury called."

The Captain slid his hood and mask back and shook his sweat-drenched hair from his face, leaning against a wall. He glanced over at Jane and Darcy before turning his attention to Stark. "I got a tip something was happening – ."

"From Loki." Hawkeye sat nearby putting his recurve back into its case, carefully clicking the lid shut. His sharp eyes were fixed on Cara and her son on the floor. His gaze was stern and conflicted, but strangely not unkind. After what Thor had told her of the archer's history with Loki, Jane had expected him to show a bit more hostility towards the Trickster's chosen.

The soldier nodded slowly. "I don't know much more than that. That blonde certainly seemed to have it out for Miss Walker, though."

Cara scowled and looked away. "It's a long story."

As if on cue, the entire aircraft shook with the force of impact. A loud _thump_ resounded through the hull, and Jane grabbed hold of the seat-straps over her shoulders. Darcy shrunk into her own seat, and the hunter covered the direwolf protectively, eyeing the ceiling warily.

"Thor's here," the redheaded pilot announced, sounding almost irritated.

"Can't he come up with a better way of announcing himself?" Stark griped as he moved to open the hatch.

The archer smirked knowingly. "Gotta have his full-page entrance."

Before the hatch had opened completely, an eerie green light momentarily filled the cabin as two large shapes took form. One was thickly muscled and broad of shoulder, long hair pulled back behind his head. The other was tall and lean, feet spread shoulder-width apart as if bracing himself. Before Jane really registered what was going on, she had already launched herself into Thor's surprised arms, burying her face into his chest and trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.


	28. Artist's Note

**Hey y'all. I'm sorry to announce that I'M STUCK! The story isn't over – far from it, actually. I've got the next few plot points planned out, including the climax of the story. The plot bunnies, however, have been conspicuously and frustratingly silent on the next couple of chapters before the next event…**

**SO**

**considering I can't figure out what to write down next, I thought I'd ask for suggestions. If there's anything you'd like to see in the next couple chapters, leave it in the review box and I'll see if I can work it in. **

**Also, I'm in the process of moving to Tennessee – so that's the second reason (writer's block being the first) why I haven't been able to update recently. **

**Thank you! You all are wonderful.**


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